Better Left Unsaid
by writinginthemargins
Summary: Sequel to Pride Goes Before the Fall. Marion Shepard has overcome a lot of personal challenges: her hesitance with biotics, her dislike of turians. But death and resurrection create a whole new set of problems, especially when you owe your life to Cerberus. Shepard must walk a thin line-work with her enemy to protect the ones she loves. Rewrite of ME2 with a twist, FemShep/Garrus.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back! Thank you for your patience while I got my ducks in a row to write my sequel to Pride Goes Before the Fall. If you are new to this fic, welcome! It is not required that you read Pride Goes Before the Fall to understand this fic (as long as you've played the games!), but I always recommend it :) Otherwise, feel free to jump on in. I'll try to catch you up with a little summary below. This story is a rewrite of ME2 with a couple of twists thrown in, just to keep it interesting.**

**This fic is being beta'ed by the lovely AnneRene. She keeps my plotlines on track and my grammar correct. Thank you!**

**All copyright belongs to Bioware; I'm just taking a spin through their universe.**

**When we last heard from the Normandy's crew, they were being sent out to do some reconnaissance on pockets of geth resistance. Garrus had been discharged from C-Sec and requested a transfer to the Normandy. Shepard saw her son Nate from a distance, still ignorant that Shepard is his mother, and left him to the care of his father, Cleon. Mymene T'Neis, Captain of the Destiny Ascension, was revealed to be an agent of the Shadow Broker interested in gaining Shepard's alliance after Socrates' botched attempt to force the Spectre's hand. And the Illusive Man reached out to Shepard, offering friendship-which she is not planning to accept. And on we go...**

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Chapter 1

They stood looking out over the Presidium, watching the leisurely stroll of the different races around them. Two asari matrons chatted as they passed, elegantly dressed in blue and red. A hanar floated by gracefully, glowing softly. No one paid any attention to the human woman and her turian companion standing on the bridge.

It was perfect.

Marion Shepard turned to face Garrus, a gentler smile on her face than he could remember seeing. Most people only ever saw the reputation or were wary of the scars that dotted her cheek and lips. A flash of those grey blue eyes was usually enough to send those interested packing. But Garrus Vakarian wasn't most turians. Hell, he wasn't most _people_.

He let one hand trace her cheek softly and he smiled as she leaned into his hand. Her coy grin made his heart pound in anticipation.

"How much more time do we have on shore leave?" she asked, one eyebrow arched.

"As much as you want, Spectre," he replied with a chuckle. "There are perks to being the only human Spectre…and to being on her crew."

Shepard's laugh was hearty and genuine; he preferred it to the tinkling giggle so many human females seemed to have. She gripped his hand tightly, suddenly pulling him along the bridge.

"That was the right answer, Vakarian."

"Vakarian."

"VAKARIAN!"

Garrus jumped up, leaping out of his pod.

"Sorry, sergeant!" His feet found parade rest even as his sleep muddled mind fought to wake. Then he remembered where he was, and who he was talking to.

The real Commander Shepard stood in front of him, arms crossed and expression bemused. Her thick black hair was pulled back into her customary bun; her black crew outfit made her blend into the shadows of the dim bunk room. She cleared her throat.

"Having a good dream?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"You could say that," he said, his voice deep and throaty, still heavy with sleep. Shepard swallowed and stepped back with a sigh.

"The ship's computerized alarms were going haywire. Swiff is working on it, but I figured you'd want to eat before you have to leave so…" She trailed off, realizing that her already thin excuse was wearing thinner. Garrus' mandibles twitched as he tried to suppress a grin.

They both understood the necessity of regulations and keeping the chain of command intact, which meant limited time alone. Their shore leave had been brief, something they both dreamed about. But back on board the Normandy SR-1, Rin had become Commander Shepard again, human Spectre. And Garrus Vakarian had become an attaché to the crew, advising her and serving on the ground team as a representative of the turian Hierarchy. They had helped to build the Normandy in the first place after all. She was his commanding officer and in the heightened tensions following the attack of Sovereign and the geth on the Citadel, they had both felt it necessary to keep their budding relationship in the shadows.

That didn't mean they had to like it. Shore leave had been equal parts restful and stressful. Garrus had held her up, taking her to the shooting range, going to see a new turian production, letting her rant and scream over the Shadow Broker and Nate and the Reapers and the stupidity of the Council. At night, curled up against his chest, she had twitched in her dreams and he heard murmurings of ship names: the Alliance ships that had been lost when she had decided to save the Council.

How she had been able to compartmentalize that was beyond him. Now she looked at him with barely a trace of shadows in her eyes. Glancing around, Shepard stepped forward, close enough that he could feel the heat of her. He swallowed and then smiled. Once that grin of sharp teeth would have been off putting. Now Shepard knew the kind of mischief that smile promised. She chuckled and leaned up on her toes for a quick peck on his rough cheek.

"The cruiser should be here in an hour," she said, the smile fading from her lips. "The _Gothis _can take you back to the Citadel so you can clear everything with the embassy."

"I wish I could have just taken care of this during our shore leave," he grumbled. "Blasted red tape. I'll be glad when my discharge papers are finally processed and transferred."

"You're not the only one," said Shepard dryly. "By the time you've taken care of it and gotten your papers for the Normandy, I'll be back on the Citadel. We'll be able to outfit the Normandy and meet with the Council, figure out our next steps."

"I like this _our _business." He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling.

She pushed him. "Don't start with me, Vakarian," she warned, though she could not help her smile. "You use that deep voice, romantic crap and Joker is going to have a field day."

She was making her way toward the door but he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her quickly to him. It made him grin wider to know she could escape him if she wanted to, but she let him pull her against his chest.

"You know, there's only one way I know of to make a turian stop talking," he said quietly, his mandibles flapping slightly with amusement.

Shepard chuckled and placed one hand on the side of his face.

"You are relentless," she whispered. Rising up on her toes, her lips met his as his arms wrapped around her waist. He sighed into her mouth, enjoying the heat of her lined up against him. For her part, Shepard had decided there was pretty much nothing she enjoyed more than feeling his smooth, cool lips on hers...unless it was having his lips move down her neck, like he was attempting now. She chuckled, half-groaning as she pulled away.

"Ok, your daily torture is over. The sooner you leave, the sooner I get to come find you again."

"You're no fun."

Shepard grinned. "That's not what you said the other night."

She left him laughing, trying to smooth the smile from her own face. By the time she walked past another crewman, she felt herself slip back into Commander Shepard. Sometimes, she couldn't tell which version of herself she truly was: the one who stood on the bridge or the one who wished to be back down with Garrus. Maybe someday, she'd get to be both.

* * *

Up on the bridge, cup of coffee in hand, Shepard leaned against Joker's chair, watching the scanner. "Let me guess? Nothing," she said, sipping her coffee.

"Hey, I don't need you doing my job, Commander. It's boring enough as it is," replied Joker, smirking as she growled.

"A whole goddamn month now we've been out here. 'Clearing pockets of geth resistance.' We've encountered them, what, four times this whole month? And nothing this last week: no geth and no sign of those missing ships. The Alliance bought the Council time to prepare for the Reapers, figure out how to stop them. Not to give them time to pretty up their Citadel for a bit before it gets blown to pieces and to find excuses to keep me out of their hair…or crests."

Joker slightly turned in his chair, one eyebrow raised. "Wow, you really are a ray of sunshine in the morning. Isn't coffee supposed to help with that?"

Shepard glared. She was _supposed_ to have returned to the Citadel three days ago. She was _supposed_ to be with Garrus. Instead, she was still here, contemplating how far she could push her Spectre powers to ignore her Alliance directive to finish searching this system. But the mystery of the missing ships called to her. Four ships had disappeared in this system in the last two weeks: no distress call, no debris. They had just vanished. Her instinct told her she needed to investigate but the annoying part of her centered somewhere in her chest wanted her to head right back to the Citadel. Just then her omnitool pinged.

"Save some more of those for when I'm fully caffeinated, Joker. We'll see who's laughing then."

Joker just waved her off as she walked down the bridge, opening up her messages. She paused in the CIC when she saw it was from Cleon. They had spoken three times since her team had rescued Cleon and Nate from the Shadow Broker's agent, Socrates. Physically, she knew they had both recovered. Mentally, her son would suffer for much longer, having lost the only mother he had ever known. Cleon, Shepard's teenage love, still had not forgiven her for the loss of his sister.

Still, he was attempting to pick up the pieces and Shepard had to commend him for that. He had written her the week before, letting her know that he had told Nate the truth. He was Nate's father and had been too young (and stupid, thought Shepard) for him to take care of Nate himself. So his sister Kate had taken Nate in and raised him as her own, while Cleon pretended to be an uncle when he came back into Nate's life later. Confusing, to say the least. The last thing their son needed was the other piece of the puzzle: that the famous Commander Shepard, the woman Nate had once idolized, was actually his mother. The same woman who Nate now hated with every fiber of his small body. His hero had not come to save him and his family as promised, and his mother had died. Now more than ever, Shepard was convinced that the right thing was for her to stay as far away from her family as possible.

Cleon's note was again brief. But the few words he gave her still made her clench her fists in frustration.

_Marion,_

_We're leaving. Nate and I need to figure things out together and get away from here. We've booked passage on a transport heading to a newly opened colony. This will be the last contact we have for a while. We don't need your protection anymore. We're going somewhere where no one will know us or know our connection to _you_. We'll be safe. Good bye._

_Cleon._

Shepard's jaw clenched, her first reaction instinctual. How dare he take her son away?

And then she reminded herself. 'You are not his mother. You made sure of that when you almost killed him with your biotics. Maybe Cleon is right. Maybe being on a faraway colony is exactly what will keep them safe.'

She closed the message, loosening her grip on her cup to take another sip, screwing up her face at the lukewarm contents. A deep breath helped to refocus her on the day's task. By the end of this week, they would be done with this system and she could head back to the Citadel. Garrus had sent her a message the day before, saying he had received his discharge papers from C-Sec and was working with the turian embassy to get his transfer to Shepard's command. Once she was back on the Citadel, she'd be able to move the process along a little faster.

Her thoughts drifted to the meeting with the Council she had scheduled for next week. She wanted to get them to see that their next step needed to be hunting down all the beacons that they could find. Liara was already working on that. The young archaeologist had left the Normandy on Shepard's orders, following leads on the beacons…and on the Shadow Broker. And Cerberus. Shepard sighed. The Broker was personal, she knew that. Cerberus was a strange mix: a true threat and one that had affected her past. But the physical and emotional scars from Akuze weren't something to be ignored. And if the 'Illusive Man' thought she was going to be working with them (_what kind of a name was that, anyway?'_), he had another thing coming.

Tali'Zorah, the quarian who had been a part of Shepard's team, had returned briefly to the Migrant Fleet to report on her doings from her Pilgrimage and to become a full-fledged member of the Fleet. She hoped to work on the quarians through her father, an admiral in the Fleet, and to eventually join Liara in her research. Shepard was grateful for their support, even if they weren't an official part of her crew anymore.

Shepard turned to the galaxy map, heading for the short set of stairs to look down on the model of the galaxy. It had always fascinated her: the swirling colors, the stars and planets just waiting to be explored, to be helped. Shepard had grown up among the stars. It was like a painting of home.

Just then, a proximity alarm sounded. Shepard frowned, pausing at one of the consoles to pull up the localized scanners. "Joker, what have we got?" she asked over the comm.

"Uh, Commander." The cockiness was gone from Joker's voice. Her head shot up from the console. Without even pausing, she released her cup of coffee, barely hearing it hit the ground as she suddenly ran for the cockpit.

"What is it? Geth?" she asked, looking out the windows of the Normandy.

"No. I don't think it's the geth," Joker said quietly, his eyes fixated on the large shape blocking out the rising sun over Alchera.

Navigator Pressley was suddenly beside her, running through idents. "It's a cruiser, but it's not matching any known signatures," he said. "Do you recognize it, Commander?"

Shepard squinted but the design was hard to make out in the sunlight. It was massive, larger than any ship she had ever seen, except for Sovereign. But this ship almost looked like it had been carved from rock. It was both primitive and advanced. "No," she answered slowly. "But I think we found the answer to our missing ship problem."

"Commander, that thing has us on an intercept trajectory," said Joker, eyeing it suspiciously. "And it's not responding to any of our hails."

Shepard leaned into the comm. "All hands on deck and at their stations. Move! Joker, patch me through." Watching the ship, she said, "This is Commander Shepard of the Human Systems Alliance, Council Spectre, in command of the SSV Normandy. Identify yourself."

No answer, just static. "This is Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy. Identify yourself and halt your approach or we will be forced to fire."

Again, no answer. Shepard's face was grim as she said, "Joker, ready weapons. If they get much closer, we'll fire a warning shot."

She began her warning again.

Her voice died in her throat as the screens all began to flash red. Her brow furrowed as a strange creature appeared for only a moment. She saw a triangular shaped head and multiple arms. A vision flashed through her head and her stomach dropped. This thing was familiar, and not in a good way.

"Joker, get us out of here," she said very quietly. "Do it, now."

His fingers moved across the screens but the ship did not move. "Commander, we're all locked up. They've gotten into our systems!"

"That's impossible!" scoffed Pressley, though his eyes were wide with fear. "This is the most advanced ship in Citadel space!"

"I don't think they're from Citadel space," whispered Shepard. "Do something, Joker!"

"I'm trying," he shouted back. Then his eyes caught on the ship. "Shit! They're firing!"

The golden glow that gathered at the point of the massive ship seemed to take forever to fire. And yet it was only a moment before that laser was bearing down on them.

"Brace yourselves!" Shepard ordered over the comm, hurling herself into the co-pilot's chair.

The blast struck them broadside, making the whole ship shudder. The shields went out like a puff of smoke. Alarms sounded through the bridge, explosions clearly heard throughout the ship, the screams of her crew punching through her gut. Shepard's ears were ringing and she seemed to be bleeding where her teeth had bitten through her lower lip. Turning to Joker, she saw he was still working with single-minded determination. A glance behind her showed Pressley on the floor, blood pooling beneath his head, his eyes glassy in death. Behind him, the CIC was in chaos. Shepard stared, her mind numbing in shock. There was fire everywhere, cracks beginning to show in the ceiling. Shepard swallowed. The atmospheric shielding wouldn't last forever.

Suddenly Joker crowed. "I've got some thrusters back! Brace for evasive maneuvers!"

"I'm going to gather the crew," she yelled over the din. "Activate the escape pods. We're abandoning ship."

She didn't wait for a response. She stumbled up and over Pressley's body, running down the bridge, falling to the side as an explosion rocked the ship. A new recruit ran past her, tears streaming down her face, heading for the escape pod. Shepard saw the tell-tale leak beside her and reached out a hand. Her cry of 'no' was drowned out in the sudden explosion. Shepard was thrown backwards, landing in a heap amongst chairs and other debris. Sharp pain lanced through her side. Ears still ringing, she glanced down and saw blood dripping from a gash across the right side of her chest.

"I am not dying from blood loss while my ship burns around me," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Hauling herself to her feet, she searched for the young soldier. She found her crumpled beneath debris, a sheet of metal piercing the ensign's chest. Shepard swallowed tightly and stood up, heading for the stairs and repeating her order to head for the escape pods. A calmness gripped her that only ever appeared during an immediate crisis. Still, her mind swirled around the familiar image from the screen; the Prothean Cipher in her head recognized the shape but could not give her a name. But Shepard knew one thing: if the Cipher recognized it as bad, then it had to be connected to the Reapers. And they were not ready to fight a Reaper alone.

She leaped down the last five stairs, dodging debris and other crewmen. Flinging herself at her locker, Shepard grabbed her hardsuit, strapping in as quickly as possible. The onboard computer immediately assessed her physical damage and she felt the sweet relief of medigel as the suit's small needles sunk into her body.

"Commander!" Ashley Williams appeared around the corner, pulling on her helmet as she ran. "Is it geth?"

"Unknown," said Shepard, pulling on her gauntlets. "The Normandy's been badly hit. We're abandoning ship. I'm going to set off the distress beacon. Get everyone you can to the life pods."

"Aye, aye Skip. I'll be back once everyone is evacuated."

"No you will not!" Shepard said fiercely. "Get everyone else left on this deck into a pod, including yourself. I'll be right behind you."

Still, Ashley hesitated. "Shepard…you are coming, right?"

Shepard grinned, pulling on her helmet. "Today is not my day, Ash. I'll see you groundside. Now _move_."

Ashley nodded and took off. Shepard turned, heading for the distress beacon. A small fire had sprung up around it and she grabbed the closest extinguisher, focusing on the task at hand. Not on the false bravado she had felt talking to Ashley. Not on the combination of panic and gratitude that Garrus was not here with her. Not on the lingering sense that she was never going to see Nate again.

The fire out, Shepard tapped into the console, activating the beacon and sending it shooting off into space. "Joker, it's time to go! Get into the pod by the cockpit. I've launched the distress beacon."

"Negative, Commander," he replied over the comm. "I'm getting control of the Normandy back. I can save her! We need to give everyone more time to get off the ship!"

"They're getting off now and so are you! I'm coming up there," she threatened and signed off. She began to run again, determined to haul his fragile ass into the pod herself. Opening the door to the CIC, her mag locks engaged and Shepard gaped. The ceiling had given way and floated off into space. There was no longer an atmosphere to the CIC: debris floated all around her, the consoles dead and silent. It was a sight she had never expected to see. The blackness of space threatened to envelope her and she looked down, concentrating on her boots, the mag locks keeping her grounded. "Goddamnit, goddamnit, goddamnit," she muttered, forcing herself to move forward, pushing aside the floating debris.

Pushing through the little bit of shielding left around Joker's cockpit, she snapped, "What the hell are you doing? I gave the order to abandon ship. That shot cut through the Normandy like butter!"

"I'm regaining control from their hacking. I can save her, get her down on Alchera," Joker shouted back, his eyes wide and frantic as his hands moved across the flickering screens.

Shepard said something she hoped her mother would never hear and then reached out, literally yanking Joker from his seat. He yelped, clutching his hat as he stumbled out of his seat. "Hey, watch the arm!"

"Oh, now you're worried about getting hurt?" she barked. "You better hope we don't make it out of this, because I am going to kick your ass when we get out of here."

"Promises, promises!" They limped toward the pod when Joker froze. "Holy shit. Commander, they're coming around for another pass!"

They both looked up through the broken shell of the Normandy. The strange ship was moving toward them again, and that golden bead was gathering. Shepard's heart just about stopped and she ran, dragging Joker with her. "Go, go, go!" she yelled, slamming her hand against the door. It slid open and she deposited Joker inside, making sure he was strapped in. In that moment, she paused and looked above her. She saw it coming for her, the shot that would destroy them all. Lunging backward, she threw herself against the side of the hull. The beam passed just before her, sending off heat and sparks.

"Shepard!" Joker shouted. Through the haze, she could see him moving inside the pod.

"Stay there, Joker!" she ordered. "I'm coming."

His eyes were wide but his face set. He was going to leave the pod to come help her, even as the force of the beam knocked her mag locks loose. There really was only one choice.

Having her decision made actually helped to slow her pounding heart. She was not going to agonize over this. She floated around the edge, avoiding a small explosion triggered by the beam. Her fingers reached for the panel on the wall.

"Shepard, no!"

Their eyes met for just a moment. Shepard grit her teeth.

"Don't stop fighting."

Then she hit the panel. The door slid shut and the pod shot away from the Normandy. He was as safe as she could make him.

Shepard turned over in mid-air to stare at the beam. It was beautiful in a way, its power deadly, its source mysterious. It sliced through her home like it was a piece of tin foil, and not the most powerful ship in the Alliance Navy.

Suddenly there was a larger explosion triggered by the firing of the beam. She saw the rushing heat and smoke coming at her and tried to bring up a biotic barrier to protect herself. It stopped some of the heat but she felt the protection evaporate with a gasp. Her body slammed into a bulkhead and then she was spinning. Swallowing tightly, her heart suddenly pounding all over again, Shepard forced herself to open her eyes.

The corpse of the Normandy was drifting away from her…or was she drifting away from it? It was hard to tell. The ship was breaking apart now, pieces of it crumbling away. Tears pricked her eyes and then began to flow more steadily. Somewhere out there, her holo of infant Nate was spinning away into the darkness. He was truly gone.

Anger hotter than she had ever known suddenly coursed through her body and she screamed into the void, her eyes narrowed to slits as she stared at this unknown ship. She would figure out who they were, their connection to the Reapers. And she would destroy them.

As she tried to draw breath from her scream, the air felt thin. Difficult to fill her lungs. Her onboard computer suddenly flashed before her eyes, showing a rapidly dropping level of oxygen. She struggled, pure survival instinct kicking in. Reaching back, she could feel where the connection to her suit had become detached. Her oxygen was leaking. She was going to suffocate. Breathing quickly and shallowly, Shepard forced herself to stop struggling, giving her mind a moment to come to terms with what was happening.

'_I'm dying_,' she thought to herself, and the idea was shocking. Was this truly it? After all the deadly situations she had faced, this was what she finally could not conquer? She was briefly bewildered. But she had told Ashley and Garrus she'd see them again. She was supposed to meet with the Council next week. She was not ready to go. Could she use her biotics? Try to lash herself to the ship? But what good would that do? It was going down, and so was she.

Her mind jumped around to many things: the sound of her father's laughter, the day she had put on her uniform, holding Nate for the first time, using her biotics, encountering the Reaper on Virmire, seeing Garrus Vakarian in the Presidium. She let her mind linger there. Nate was safe with Cleon. Her crew and Councilor Anderson would keep up the fight against the Reapers. But Garrus…they were unfinished. There was so much more to say, to do, to fight about! Their relationship so far had been light and fun, with moments of intensity so bright Shepard knew they would blaze in her memory, well, for as long as she had a memory.

Could they have become something more? She thought so. But now she would never know.

Shepard didn't want to spend her last few minutes on regret. Fingers trembling, she activated her omni tool.

"This is Commander Shepard. The Normandy has been attacked by an unknown enemy; I ordered the crew to abandon ship. During evacuation, I became separated from the ship and my hardsuit became compromised." She sucked in a slow, shallow breath and continued. "Find the beacons. Learn everything you can. We slowed down the Reapers, but don't believe for a second we stopped them. You have…have to stop them."

The air was getting harder to take in, her vision starting to swim. Her heart was pounding and she gasped, her voice gone. Nate, Ashley, Liara, Tali—Garrus. Her lips fought to form his name but her whisper was soundless. She had—feelings for him. She was dying, she could let herself ponder that for a moment. She couldn't put a name to the emotions that swirled through her at the thought of Garrus. It was too hard to come to terms with the fact that she might be falling in love with a turian. Having so little oxygen wasn't helping the matter. She was bemused by the thought of falling in love. This galaxy was a strange place.

Her vision was the next to go. She drifted in this strange semi-conscious space, lungs constricting, body seizing from lack of air. But she fought to embrace a sense of peace as she faded out of existence, ignoring the niggling sense of dissatisfaction that something had been left unsaid.

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**And so we begin! Thanks for reading. Thoughts, comments, suggestions are always welcome as reviews. I really appreciate you taking the time to read and supporting me as I plow through this massive game. Next up, some of our favorites react to the news of Shepard's death. My plan is to update every 7-10 days and try to make each chapter a little longer than the ones from the last fic.**

**Buckle in everyone. It's going to be a bumpy ride for Shep and the gang. See you next week! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Back again! Thank you for the reviews and for all the favorites and follows. If you are new to the story, feel free to jump on in! I'm sure if you've played the games, you'll be able to follow along without reading the first story (though you're always welcome to read it!). I should have put this in the first chapter, but here is my general disclaimer: This story is my take on the ME series. Some things will be different. Some characters will not survive. Like the ME series, there will be drama and heartache but also triumph and romance. If you're into that, I hope you keep reading!**

**This fic has been beta'ed by the knowledgeable AnneRene. Thanks lady!**

**All copyright belongs to Bioware; I'm just taking a spin through their universe.**

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Chapter 2

Garrus had been trapped in the office waiting room for two hours. Two hours! All to get a simple signature from Ambassador Vellia. The first of five. He grumbled as he walked down the street, staring at the holo in his hand. The Hierarchy certainly did not make it easy to transfer authority.

Someone bumped into him and Garrus turned, a smart comment already on his lips. But the human male did not seem to notice, running for one of the screens that lined this part of the Presidium. In fact, a small crowd had gathered there, drawn to whatever news report was happening.

Garrus had never had much belief in 'raminis,' what humans called a 'sixth sense.' He trusted his gut instinct when in pursuit of a criminal and that was that. But something twinged deep inside him and he frowned, watching as men and women, human, asari, turian, all races, crowded around, exclamations of shock and horror beginning to echo down the street. He turned slowly, eyeing the crowd, his mind working quickly. What would interest the different species? His omnitool pinged but he ignored it, walking toward the screen.

The image shifted and he stopped dead in the middle of the street, causing someone behind him to curse. He knew that ship. He knew that face.

Her enlistment photo was superimposed on an image of the Normandy. She looked so young. Black hair pulled back into her bun, a smile in those blue-grey eyes, no scars on her lips and cheek. Commander Marion Shepard, missing in action. That's what the subtitles on the screen were telling him. But how? How was that possible? He had just seen her, held her, teased her. She was supposed to be back next week. She was just on a routine patrol!

He felt the heat of anger stir in his body but his blue eyes stayed narrowed, focused on the report. Normandy destroyed by unknown vessel, rescue crews working to recover escape pods. Shepard among the missing. Presumed dead. The rest was drivel, as the reporters told every fact they had dug up in the last five minutes, true or not. The events on Akuze, her reluctant biotics, her pursuit of Saren, her conviction in the existence of the Reapers, her heroism, her bravery, her dedication.

They knew nothing.

What about the way she drew everyone around her into her orbit, like a blazing sun? Her accuracy with a pistol, the beauty of her warp as she hurled it at an enemy. That crooked grin, the way her scar pulled at her lip just slightly when she smiled. The way she touched people's lives, interfered in their business, made them reevaluate everything about themselves and what they believed.

Why didn't they talk about that? Why are they even talking about her at all? Shepard's a survivor, above all else. She would have found a way to survive this attack. She was probably hidden somewhere on the planet's surface, planning how she would take out this unknown enemy. And she did not break her word easily. She had promised to see him next week. He had to believe she would come back.

He had to.

* * *

Joker came to in his escape pod, a red emergency light blinking steadily. He groaned, feeling battered and bruised—and broken. He cursed loudly as he moved his arm. Definitely broken.

He must have hit his head against something, because blood had dried across his left eye, making it hard to open. He won that battle eventually and looked around.

At his empty pod.

"Shepard!" he yelled suddenly, scrambling to release himself from his harness. "Shepard!"

The beam, slicing between them. Her eyes, focused behind her helmet. Her hand, hitting the release panel. Joker grabbed a breather and opened the hatch. The cold air hit him hard, and he wrapped his good arm around his body.

Snow blew across the open plain he had landed on. In the distance, he could see smoke, likely from another crashed pod. Too far for him to investigate. There was no sign of the downed Normandy. He felt a pang in his heart at the thought of his beautiful ship burning but he was too focused on his omni tool, trying to patch into any local channels.

"This is Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau. Can anybody read me?" There was some static, some garbled words. He felt his heart race. "Shepard! Can you read me? Come on, Shep, you said you'd kick my ass. I'm waiting!"

A female voice finally came through, but not the one he was expecting.

"Joker! Turn around!"

He limped around the side of the escape pod, tripping slightly in the snow. Ashley Williams was running toward him, Dr. Chakwas behind her. Both women were pale but seemed uninjured. Joker tried to register that that was a good thing, but all he felt was a rising panic that neither of them was Commander Shepard.

"Joker! You're ok!" Ashley threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. He winced and cursed but didn't fight the contact.

"Careful, Ashley, his Vrolik's Syndrome," admonished the doctor, though her brilliant green eyes were wet. "Are you injured, Joker?"

"My arm," he muttered. As he backed away, he pulled off his cap, tugging at his hair for a moment, then replacing the cap, his eyes constantly swiveling around.

"Joker. Where's the commander? Where's the Skip?" asked Ashley, starting to frown.

Joker's throat was tight and he did not answer, his eyes dropping to the ground, his weight shifting in the snow. Chakwas froze. "Dear Lord," she whispered.

Ashley looked at the doctor and then her sharp brown eyes swung back to Joker. She swallowed tightly.

"Joker. What the hell happened up there? Where is the commander?"

"She saved my stubborn ass," he muttered. "And I got her killed for her trouble."

The wind blowing in between them was the only sound for several long moments.

"What. Does. That. Mean," Ashley growled, her face going from pale to red. "Where is she?" She shoved Joker back against the pod, making Chakwas cry out in surprise. Joker said nothing, even as his broken arm hit the side. He just stared at Ashley, his eyes full.

"Where is she, Joker? She can't be dead! She can't! She said today was not her day!" Ashley's voice was growing raspy, even as she yelled, gripping his shirt in her fists. "She's Commander Shepard, for Christ's sake! Savior of the Citadel, first human Spectre, survivor of Akuze and every other piece of shit this galaxy has thrown at her. She's my friend! She can't be—gone."

Her voice trailed off hoarsely. Her hands released Joker and she stumbled backward, bracing herself on her knees. Dr. Chakwas was crying silently behind her.

"We were going for the escape pod. That ship came back around for another pass. They hit the CIC. She got me into the pod and released it. The last I saw of her—there was an explosion. She, she got, spa-spaced." Joker's voice failed him and his good hand rubbed his eyes, as if he was trying to block out the image.

Ashley struggled to get her breath and then just gave up, slumping to the ground and kneeling in the snow. Chakwas' breath caught and she turned away, closing her eyes as she let the wind sweep over her. From behind her, Ashley whispered brokenly into the snow.

"Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace."

* * *

Tali'Zorah vas Neema walked down the hallway, reading the latest report her father had sent her. He was on a scouting expedition, observing geth near their lost homeworld, Rannoch. He was obsessed with finding a way to return the quarian people to their home. Tali did want a home there someday. Right now, she would be content to just have her father _be_ home. She had seen him for a week's total since her return from her Pilgrimage over five weeks before.

"Tali!" She turned, brow furrowed as young Suma'Yuzh nar Jolarm ran toward her, weaving in and out of the crowded hallway. Her red hood made her stand out from the more common greys and blacks around them. "Tali! The admirals near to see you, immediately." She grabbed Tali's hand and began to tug her back down the corridor.

Tali jogged behind her, slightly alarmed.

"What's going on, Suma? Is it the geth?"

"No, I overheard them whispering," panted Suma. "It's about your old captain. Shepard."

Standing in front of the available Admirals, Tali felt her knees tremble. They were trying to tell her something important, but it was like her helmet was blocking any and all comprehension.

"I'm sorry, Admiral. Can you repeat that?" she asked slowly, her eyes blinking rapidly.

Admirals Shala'Raan and Zaal'Koris exchanged a glance. "We received word from the Alliance. They thought as a former member of her crew, you deserved to know as soon as possible," began Raan gently. "The Normandy was attacked in the Amada System. The ship went down on the planet Alchera. Commander Shepard is missing in action. The unofficial report from her crew is that she went down with her ship. She's gone, Tali."

_She's gone, Tali_. Those words reverberated through her head and Tali lifted her hands to her head, almost as though she could stop the truth just by blocking out the sound.

"I know this is hard to hear, Tali'Zorah, but the Alliance has requested your presence at the Citadel, to help sort through any information recovered from the Normandy's computers," said Zaal'Koris. "It is an opportunity of inter-species collaboration that we cannot afford to pass up…"

"Shepard's death is not an opportunity, you bosh'tet!" exclaimed Tali, one finger pointing at the stunned admiral. "I am going to the Citadel, but it's to help search for her and bring her home, not to listen to more of your opportunistic schemes." She turned and stormed out of chambers, ignoring Zaal's cries of outrage.

"Lila," she said coldly into her omni tool. "I'm calling in my favor. I need a small transport to the Citadel. Now."

* * *

**One week later**

Cleon and Nate had just settled into their prefab in Strawbridge Colony. Their neighbors, an older couple, seemed kind. Life here was quiet. Gentle rolling hills, a young forest all around them, plenty of land for clearing. Cleon had been hired as an engineer for the colony; it would keep him busy but was hardly the pace set on an Alliance base. It was a place of peace, something they both sorely needed. Nate was beginning to come out of his shell. He had yet to call Cleon 'Dad'; he wasn't sure he ever expected him to. But he had stopped calling him uncle at least.

Cleon wandered over to the window, looking out at the courtyard in between several prefabs. A few of the local kids had already surrounded Nate, that awkward dance of feeling out the newcomer beginning. One little girl had sat down right next to him on the bench and was chatting away. There was a hint of smile on Nate's face and Cleon nodded, feeling gratitude for that moment. He would be all right. Here, in this place, away from all the memories, he would be all right.

They had been traveling for several days and then spent two days settling into colony life, unpacking their new home. There hadn't been much time for anything else. Cleon allowed himself five minutes to sit on the couch that had come with the prefab, groaning as his body sank into the pillows. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the console and began flipping through the few channels the colony received.

"Have you tried…"

"…I can't believe you allowed…"

"In other news, the search has been called off…"

"…services for those lost in the Normandy disaster…"

Cleon felt his whole body stiffen and he sat up, flipping back to that channel. The sober faced reporter was still speaking, but Cleon struggled to make sense of her words.

"Representatives from all Council races are expected to attend the services. The Council released an official statement yesterday, saying that 'the loss of Commander Shepard to the galaxy is incalculable. Her determination, loyalty and sense of honor are to be commended. The Council will always be in her debt. We pledge a full investigation into the loss of the Normandy and recommend that anyone traveling near the Terminus Systems exercise extreme caution. Justice will be sought, for Commander Shepard, her crew, and for this galaxy, which is a darker place without her.' The Council has not released any details from the destruction of the advanced warship but has officially called off the search for Shepard's body. The Systems Alliance has declared her killed in action. It is a dark day indeed."

Cleon turned off the console, his mouth dry. "Shit. Rin—oh, Rin." He ran his hands through his hair and let his head hang down. "I'm sorry, Rin. I'm so sorry."

* * *

It was an impressive number of people. The courtyard of the Presidium was overflowing with men and women of every race. Most humans were dressed in black and grey, asari in various shades of gold and yellow, turians in their military best. It was a stunning kaleidoscope of colors and faces. But Garrus could take none of it in. As part of the team that had brought down Saren, he was seated in the front rows, with the Council, Udina, the newly inducted Councilor Anderson and the rest of the surviving Normandy crew. Liara T'Soni was noticeably absent but Garrus could not find it in himself to wonder why. Maybe it was too painful for her. It was almost too painful for him. So instead he focused on Shepard's last act of heroism: ordering everyone to the life pods rather than attempting to fight. Only twenty-one dead out of a crew of seventy-two. Given the level of catastrophe they had experienced, it was remarkable.

He had dressed in his very best uniform, his armor gleaming. He only vaguely remembered polishing it last night in his old apartment, mechanically buffing out any scratches. A blanket seemed to have wrapped its way around his head since the day before, when Anderson had sat him down in his office. Finally, someone had been honest with him.

"We're calling off the search," Anderson had said, his voice tired. "We found the wreckage of the Normandy but no sign of Shepard's body. We've been scanning the planet but there are no detectible life signs that we've been able to discover. Lieutenant Moreau said he saw her separate from the ship. If that is so…then there's no way she survived. She would have been pulled down to the planet's surface. I'm sorry, Vakarian. We're declaring Commander Shepard killed in action. She'll be honored with the other dead at a memorial tomorrow."

Garrus shook his head slightly at the memory. The movement jarred him to focus on the present, on Ashley up at the podium, Shepard's picture beside her.

"Commander Shepard was more than my commanding officer," she began, her voice steady, eyes tight. "She was a loyal friend, a fierce soldier, a true defender of the Alliance and of the galaxy. I'll never forget the day I met her."

Ashley swallowed before continuing. "During the attack on Eden Prime, I was scared out of my mind. The geth were in pursuit, my squad decimated. I was alone. And then she came down the hill with Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko. She was so calm, so focused. She saved my life that day, and saved the colony from total destruction. I knew as soon as I met her that whatever enemy she faced, she would come out on top. Commander Shepard is a name that inspires respect in those who love her, and fear in those who don't." There was an appreciative murmur from the crowd at that.

"But in the attack that claimed her life, she did not have the opportunity to fight back. It was a cowardly attack," said Ashley, her voice starting to waver. "It claimed her life and the lives of twenty other good men and women of the Alliance. And we will not stand for that. We will honor her memory by upholding everything she believed in and by continuing the fight against her enemies. Commander Shepard gave everything she had to warn us about the Reapers. So we must give everything in return to stop them and any other danger that threatens this galaxy. Because that's what she would have wanted."

Garrus was proud of Ashley's words but from the corner of his eye he watched the Council shift uncomfortably at the mention of the Reapers, saw Udina's deep frown. _Oh, so that's how it's going to be_, he thought.

Ashley turned to salute Shepard's picture.

"Rest in peace, my friend. I wish you had never had to leave us, but know you left the galaxy in good hands." Then she stepped down from the podium and a human priest of some kind stood and exhorted everyone to stand and join him in prayer. Garrus followed what everyone was doing. He even patted Ashley on the shoulder as she came to stand beside him, tears running down her face. He let Tali lean against him on the other side, a quiet sniffling coming from inside her helmet. But Garrus wasn't really there anymore. His thoughts were on the Normandy, watching Shepard stand by the airlock, a cup of coffee in her hand and a sad smile on her lips as she said goodbye.

* * *

**Three weeks later**

Liara stood over the fallen Blue Suns merc, biotics still lighting up her body. Her drell companion looked impressed.

"I heard you were an archaeologist," Feron commented, putting away his pistol.

Liara stepped back, surveying the back alley. Like the rest of Omega, it was dirty and dark. But for some reason, she had a hard time feeling fear at the sight. She turned back to him. "I _was_ an archaeologist. Now I'm not. What were you saying about Shepard before…?" She gestured vaguely at the destruction she had left behind her.

"The Blue Suns were hired by the Shadow Broker to recover Shepard's body," he said. "As you can see, the Shadow Broker is interested in acquiring her. They found her on the surface of Alchera and put her into a stasis pod. They are trying to deliver her to the Broker, but obviously they are not the only group interested in her remains."

Liara's heart thumped painfully at the word 'remains' and she struggled to ask her next question.

"Why? Hasn't he done enough to her? What does he want with her body?"

"We're not sure, but we're hoping to find out." The strange voice with the unfamiliar accent startled Liara and she spun, her biotics lighting up the alley once again.

A tall human woman strode toward them, her steps lithe and sinuous. She was dressed in a tight white and black uniform, armed, dangerous. But the light of Liara's biotics showed her hands to be empty as she held them up. "Or rather, we know why the Shadow Broker wants her, but not why his buyer does."

"Who are you?" Liara demanded, eyeing the two men who followed the woman. Again armed, but empty-handed.

The woman held up a hand to keep them back. She tilted her head, her thick black hair falling gently to the side. Her grey eyes were piercing. "Miranda Lawson," she finally said. "I work for Cerberus. I'm sure you're familiar."

Liara's biotics brightened at that. "I do not work with Cerberus," she spat.

"Even if it will save your friend's body from the Collectors?" questioned Miranda, still calm, almost arrogantly so.

Liara's eyes narrowed. "The Collectors? Why would they want Shepard's body?"

"We're not sure. But I think we can both agree we don't want Shepard anywhere near them. Especially if it turns out they were the ones who destroyed the Normandy in the first place."

"Cerberus killed her squad on Akuze, nearly killed her. Now you want to protect her? What do you care?"

"That was a splinter group, not one whose activities were monitored by the Illusive Man," replied Miranda, a frostiness settling into her tone. "What happened to Shepard was tragic, but who is to say it did not help make her into the woman she is? That woman is who we both want to save."

The two women stared at each other for another long moment. Finally, Liara let her biotics slowly die, leaving the alley in near darkness. "And why should I trust you?" she asked. "What do you want with Shepard?"

"Cerberus is all about the good of humanity," said Miranda, "and Shepard represented the very best. The Illusive Man believes that the Reapers will return and Shepard's knowledge of the Cipher and the beacons, not to mention her own considerable skill, will be essential to defeating them. She is _Ome_."

Liara visibly started at that. "How do you know that? No one knows that but her crew."

Miranda smiled slightly.

"The depth of our knowledge would shock you, Dr. T'Soni. As would our plans to bring her back." She stepped closer to Liara, her expression intense. "Cerberus' resources are considerable. Have you ever heard the human parable of Lazarus?"

Liara shook her head mutely, still stuck on the phrase 'bring her back.'

"We can save her, Dr. T'Soni. Cerberus can restore her to life, at great cost and with time. But first we have to rescue her. So I'll ask again: will you help us?"

* * *

**Six weeks later**

Garrus growled and hurled the holo across the room, before backhanding the items on his desk and sending them crashing to the floor. His salarian assistant poked his head in, then scurried out when Garrus chucked a holo at his head.

"Where the hell are they?" he snarled, turning back to the console, where he was speaking to Shepard's uncle Roran.

"I don't know," the older man repeated. "Cleon took up and left. No word, nothing. He and Nate are gone, off to some colony. He did not say where. He didn't want anyone to know."

Garrus slammed the door closed to his office then went back up to the console, his mandibles twitching ferociously.

"So that's it? He just took Shepard's son and disappeared off the grid?" he demanded.

Roran held up his hands. "That's how he wanted it. He's the boy's father, Vakarian, and they've been through a lot. They deserve some peace and quiet."

"But how—" How was he supposed to protect Shepard's son if he didn't even know where he was? Garrus hung his head, leaning against the desk.

"I'm coming out there," he said slowly. "I'll follow leads and figure out where they are. It's not safe for them to…"

"You'll leave my family alone if you know what's good for you," threatened Roran. "Cleon sent a message to Marion telling her his plans. If she didn't make a stink about it, then you, _a turian_, certainly can't."

Garrus' head shot up at that and he glared. Swiping his hand at the console, he ended the call and pulled open the door to his office. His assistant squeaked.

"Officer Vakarian, a Jeff Moreau has been trying to reach you…"

"I don't take his calls, Ogop," said Garrus darkly. "Where's Executor Pallin?"

"He just returned from a meeting, he's in his office—"

Garrus stormed past him, down the hall to the executor's office. He burst in, ignoring the asari detective sitting in front of the desk.

"I need to request a leave of absence," Garrus said abruptly. "I have some personal business to take care of."

To his credit, the executor barely blinked. "You have four investigations open right now, Officer," he replied. "When you have closed them, you can take a leave. But not now."

Garrus' fists clenched. "Sir, I respectfully request…"

"Your request is denied, Vakarian. You know how this goes. Protocol requires that any open investigations be closed before a member of Citadel Security can take a leave of absence. Is this an emergency? Has a member of your family passed away?"

A muscle twitched in Garrus' face. "No sir," he replied stonily.

"Well that's a relief. I imagine you've had enough to deal with after the loss of your former commander," said Pallin lightly. "Though given the newest reports coming through, it doesn't sound like she was all that stable. This talk of Reapers—it must have been a chore to put up with that nonsense while pursuing an actual criminal like Saren…"

The punch to his face took the executor by surprise and he stumbled backward. The asari detective jumped up, weapon in hand. But Garrus had thrown down his gun in disgust and was now tossing his badge at the executor.

"Screw your damn rules," he growled. "And screw you. I'm done with this place, and I'm sure as hell done with you. I quit."

Turning, he took off out of the office and down the hall, ignoring the yells behind him. He hadn't been able to save Shepard. Now he couldn't protect her son. Hell, he couldn't even protect her damn memory. The media and the Council were determined to erase everything she had done. Fine, then. He was done. He'd find someplace where he could disappear for a while, maybe find something he could actually protect. He'd failed at everything else. She was dead. What did any of it matter now, anyway?

* * *

**And so we are set for the events of ME2. What did you think? Did characters react how you were expecting? How was Garrus' quitting scene? Please take a moment to leave your thoughts, comments and suggestions in a review. Your support keeps me motivated :)**

**See you next week!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Time for Project Lazarus to begin. Let's see how Shepard reacts to being resurrected.**

**Many thanks to AnneRene for betaing and her insights into Shepard's character :)**

**All copyright belongs to Bioware; I'm just taking a spin through their universe.**

* * *

Chapter 3

The stasis pod lay behind Liara, as silent and unmoving as its occupant. Liara's voice was tight with unshed tears.

"If I give her to you, you'll be able to bring her back?" she asked.

Miranda frowned. "I already told you, nothing is certain. But since her helmet survived, much of her skull remains intact. So in theory, yes. I will be able to bring her back. Only scans will be able to tell us how much brain damage she may have incurred."

Liara turned back to the stasis pod, leaning over the frosted glass. She could just see the body, remains, _Shepard_. The shape of her helmet, the curl of a finger.

"I need to see her," she insisted. "I need to know that it's her."

"Who else would be in there?" The impatience in Miranda's voice was now very apparent. "Dr. T'Soni, the longer we wait, the less likely we are to be successful. We need to get her to our sterile and secure laboratory, where we can conduct tests and—"

"She is not an experiment!"

Biotics flickered on both women at Liara's outburst. The asari's face was cold, older than her years. Her fists clenched as she glared at the Cerberus operative.

"This is my friend, not something for you to put under a microscope! I've already lost Feron to the Broker." A tear fell down Liara's cheek but it did not soften her gaze. "I will not lose Shepard to you and I will not allow you to turn her into a Cerberus machine. I would rather destroy what's left of her right now than let you put some chip in her head."

At that, the Cerberus soldiers behind Miranda lifted their weapons, taking aim. Miranda stepped forward, her own biotics blazing higher. "I wouldn't try that if I were you," she threatened.

Liara smirked. "You're powerful for a human, but I am an asari. Biotics are in my blood. Do not press me."

Miranda ground her teeth. "The Illusive Man has given me orders that she is not to be controlled. She is useless to all of us if she can't make her own decisions…according to him."

"Good. At least he has some sense, even if other decisions have been questionable. But my first demand stands. I want to see her. I _need_ to know that it's her. Then you can take her."

At an unseen signal, the soldiers lowered their weapons. Miranda sighed but walked over to the pod, fingers moving across the controls.

"You have ten seconds. Then I seal her back up. You know this will not be easy," she added.

Liara's eyes had shifted to the glass. "Do it," she said quietly.

The seal of the pod slid back and in the cloud that rose up, Liara could finally see Shepard.

Her suit was blackened, scorched away in several places. The skin beneath the broken armor was badly burnt, red and black. Her legs looked broken—badly broken. The N7 was just barely visible beneath the grime, dried blood and burn marks. Steeling herself, Liara looked at Shepard's face.

The helmet was still intact, though one big crack ran across it. The glass was shattered and in the cloud generated by the stasis pod, Liara could just see her face. It was swollen and broken, but the curve of her nose was still visible. Her eyes were open. That should have made Liara break down; her emotions had been bubbling just beneath her skin for weeks. Those sharp grey-blue eyes that always saw everything, that could make you quake or smile in an instant-now they were expressionless, the whites of her eyes red with broken blood vessels. Her skin was bone pale, with bits of frost attached to her cheeks and what was left of her eyebrows and eyelashes. It was Shepard…and yet it wasn't. She knew the sight of her broken body would haunt her but for now, it gave Liara peace. They had found her.

She stepped back and let Miranda close the pod. "Do what you can for her. And keep me updated." Liara started to walk away then paused to say, "Do not make me come find you."

"Where will you be?" called Miranda.

"Hunting."

Awareness. Warmth. Fabric on her bare skin. Air on her exposed hands. Pounding in her head. It was all very confusing. Her mind struggled to process all the sensations. She expected cold, though she could not quite remember why.

Then there was the horrible taste in her mouth. So dry too. What had she lasted eaten? She tried to work her mouth to wet it but could not find the strength. Her mind drifted to smell then. Antiseptic, cleaning products, medigel and something pleasant—vanilla and coconut? It was nice.

A smooth sound came from somewhere to her right. A door sliding open? She wanted to open her eyes, see the inside of the Normandy medbay where she apparently had wound up once again. How much of a dressing down would Chakwas give her this time? But she hadn't quite remembered how her eyelids worked yet. She listened to the sounds, focusing on deciphering them for now.

"Her vitals are good. After that episode of cardiac arrest, I thought we might have hit a snag." The man's voice was unfamiliar and made Shepard want to frown but her face would not respond. Now she was getting worried. Who the hell was on her ship?

"I adjusted the frequency of the nanites after we shocked her heart. Everything seems to be stabilizing. Keep the anesthesia at a steady rate and we'll keep her under observation for a few more days. The Illusive Man will be pleased. We're close." That name tugged at something in Shepard, almost distracting her from the unfamiliar accented female voice.

Something beeped and someone moved closer to her. Shepard could feel her heart rate picking up. She was vulnerable, surrounded by strangers, and she could not move. Panic began to race through her as instinct took over.

_Open! _she ordered her eyes. _You have to open!_

"Miranda, these readings—she's reacting to outside stimuli!"

"Impossible," scoffed the woman. "Run your numbers again. She has enough sedative in her to keep her asleep for another week."

Shepard felt her eyelids flutter. A brief flash of light, so bright: she closed her eyes again. But her breathing was still picking up with her heart rate. Were they trying to sedate her? Where was Dr. Chakwas?

"Damnit Wilson, she's waking up! Give her another dose!"

Footsteps came closer and Shepard forced her eyes open, trying to focus as tears welled up against the pain of the light. A woman leaned over her and Shepard struggled to raise her hands, trying to gather her strength to fight.

"Shepard, you're all right. You're in a secure facility being treated for your injuries. Don't fight us." The woman, Miranda, placed a hand gently on her shoulder, pressing her back into a pillow. Shepard suddenly realized she was naked beneath a sheet. Feeling vulnerable was not something Commander Marion Shepard was used to feeling. There was only one way she reacted to it.

It was pure instinct that made her lash out with her biotics…except the reaction was not what she was expecting. The light raced up and down her body and she shrieked. It was too much! Too much sensation, too much raw power. She screamed again and then her body jerked, out of her control.

The woman above her set her jaw. It was surprisingly strong looking in such a feminine face: pale skin, soft cheeks, soft blue eyes, thick black hair. Shepard took in all these details and then screamed again.

"She tried to use her biotics. Damnit, she's not ready. Sedate her!"

"I did! It's not working—"

"Out of my way!"

Coolness filled her veins and Shepard felt all her muscles relax at once. The jerking of her limbs stopped and her mind felt cloudy. Sedation always left a heavy feeling on her tongue: that's what she had noticed when she had first started to come out of it. There were important matters to think over: her biotics, the situation, her vulnerability. But it was becoming too difficult to focus on one thought. Already they were vanishing from her mind like a wisp of cloud.

"That was close," said the man, his voice muffled. "We almost lost her."

"I knew your numbers were off. Run them all again."

Shepard cracked her eyes open one more time. Miranda was still leaning over her. Shepard registered a faint note of surprise to see the concern in her eyes. It was not reassuring as Shepard drifted away again.

This time, it was definitely the sound that got her attention first. An alarm, blaring and bouncing around in her skull. Shepard groaned. She was not ready to get up. One hand reached out to turn off her console and encountered blank air.

Disoriented, her eyes opened and she groaned again. God, it was bright. It was also not her quarters on the Normandy.

"Shepard! Can you hear me? Wake up, now." That bossy voice was coming from her omni tool. Shepard ignored it for a moment, sitting up to look around—before grabbing the sheet to her chest. Holy shit, she was naked! What kind of trouble had she gotten into?

She was in some type of medbay, much more advanced and better equipped than the Normandy's. Shepard would have been impressed if she were dressed. _Well, this is damned inconvenient. Where the hell am I am supposed to put my pistol? If Garrus think this is supposed to be funny..._

"Shepard? Wake up! This facility is under attack, you have to get out of that bed." Shepard looked down at her omni tool and frowned. It looked…different. The interface was new, less crowded than before. She hadn't heard about a software upgrade.

"Who is this? And where the hell are my clothes?" she growled back at the voice.

"Good, you're awake. There's a pistol and some scrubs in the locker on the other side of the room. Get dressed. They're coming for you."

"Still haven't answered my questions." Shepard threw back the sheet and went to swing her legs over. The sudden pain made her gasp. Every inch of her body ached. She felt like she had been run over by a herd of krogan.

Glancing down at her legs as she fought to catch her breath, her eyes widened. Her lower legs looked cracked, an orange glow almost emanating from them. Lifting up her hands, she saw some of the same cracks along her arms and hands. Her throat tightened. It was like she was healing from some major wounds…but instead of seeing the angry red of skin knitting back together, she saw orange. "Fuck me," she whispered. "What's wrong with me?"

"Your incisions aren't quite healed yet, but you have to move now," ordered the voice again. "Do you want these mechs to kill you? Get the pistol."

"I don't normally take orders from strange voices coming out of omni tool, particularly one as bitchy as you," snapped Shepard. Still she got up and hobbled over to the locker, grateful to see the loose grey pants and shirt of a nurse. She barely noticed the logo on the front of the shirt, caught up in the sensation of clothes on her bare skin. It felt strange. Should clothes feel strange?

On the shelf below there was a pistol. Shepard grabbed that too, smiling at the feel of it in her hand. It was light, lighter than expected, but promised to pack a punch. She wanted one of her own.

"My name is Miranda Lawson," said the woman, ignoring the bitchy comment. "I was part of the team that—healed you. But now this facility has been attacked, someone has hacked our mechs and set them to take us out. I'm in lockdown at another end. I'll be out of here as soon as I can. But you need to leave and head to the shuttle. I've marked the location on your omnitool."

"Yeah, I want to talk to you about that. I didn't ask for an upgrade. And what's with the pistol? It's so light."

"In the bin next to the cabinet there are thermal clips. Equip it to your pistol and bring a few with you."

Shepard grabbed a few and slid one into the pistol. "I like this design," she said, heading for the door. "Where's my crew?"

_Ashley. Chakwas. Joker. Liara. Tali._

_Garrus._

"Not here. We can talk more once we're on the shuttle…"

"Are they safe?" demanded Shepard. _Please, tell me they're safe._

"They're fine, Shepard. Would you focus on yourself for right now? A group of mechs are trying to hack into the room next to you. Don't get hit."

"Great advice. You sound like my old squad leader."

"Oh and Shepard? Don't use your biotics."

"Why?"

"Just trust me." Miranda sounded beyond exasperated. "You went years without using them. Can you last a few more minutes?"

Shepard grumbled something under her breath but slid into place behind a desk as the door opened. Questions later. Action now. Hadn't that always been her style?

She sighted on her first target as she peered around the corner. There were five, two making their way down the low set of stairs, three clustered by the door. And the fire system. Shepard grinned and then moved. Her first shot hit the fire suppression system, making a cloud leak out into the air. The second shot made the tank explode. Three mechs flew across the room and while the other two stumbled, she stood up and fired one handed. Two shots, two dropped mechs.

Her brow furrowed and she looked down at her cracked hands. For someone recovering from severe injuries, that felt pretty good. Smooth, fast, faster than she was used to. She swallowed down the nerves that were suddenly bubbling through her stomach. Something really bad had happened. What was it?

She moved out into the corridor. Some fires had erupted in corners and there were a few crumpled bodies in the corridors, all dressed in black and white. Shepard moved over to one man to check vital signs but he was gone. Then her eyes caught on the symbol.

Cerberus.

Her jaw clenched until it practically creaked. She was in a Cerberus facility. "Son of a bitch!" she shouted, suddenly moving quickly down the hallway and ducking into what looked like a laboratory. She went right to a console, looking for information, a way to call out and get the Alliance here, anything!

Her eyes caught on a log entry. 'M. Shepard, 451.' Fingers trembling, she reached out to play the entry. "All major organs are now functional with rudimentary neurological functions," said the male voice. "We have begun moving from simple organic reconstruction to biosynthetical fusion. Thus far, our total cost has been 4 billion credits. I don't know where the Illusive Man gets his money, but I wish he'd throw some my way every once in a while."

Shepard stopped the log, feeling like her heart might beat out of her chest. Rudimentary neurological functions? Biosynthetical fusion? What did that even mean?

How long had she been in that bed?

And why couldn't she remember what happened?

"Shepard. You're stationary in one of the research labs. What are you doing? Get moving!" Miranda was back.

"Why should I trust you? Cerberus," she spat, heading for the door.

"Ah. I see your observational skills are as sharp as ever. Good," Miranda replied dryly. "We can go over that in more detail later. But right now Shepard we both want the same goal: to get out of this facility alive. Can we wait until we're in the shuttle to do the Spanish Inquisition?"

"My team better be safe or I swear…"

"Save the growling, Shepard. I'm en route now, but I have a squad of mechs ahead of me. Keep moving. I'll explain later."

* * *

Shepard moved with single-minded fury through the hallways, taking out mechs with ease. Then ahead she heard the sound of return fire. Someone else was alive. As she ducked around the corner, she went to brush her hair out of her eyes and froze. Her black hair was shorter.

Much shorter.

Where it had once fallen down to the middle of her back when she released it from its normal bun, it now barely reached her chin. She bit her lip to stop the sudden anxious trembling and shoved the questions into a very small corner of her mind. This station was under attack. If she wanted answers, she had to make it out of here first. With no protection, healing scars criss-crossing her body, and biotics out of commission, picking up some back-up (even if they were Cerberus) seemed like a good idea.

Having refocused herself, she moved around the corner, assessing the situation at lightning speed: one man, held down by mech fire from across the courtyard. The glass of the walkway the man ducked behind was cracked. Shepard set her jaw and walked forward.

One shot took out the closest mech. The other four turned cumbersomely to fire but she ran and slid to hide behind the walkway, wincing as the movement pulled at various scars. The man stared at her wide-eyed.

"Shepard? What the hell are you doing up?" The man was in the same black and white uniform, with the yellow Cerberus logo on the front. But his dark brown eyes were large and intelligent: not the mindless minion she had pictured in her head. His skin was as dark as his eyes, but did not show signs of injury.

"What's the sit rep?" she asked.

He shook his head, then leaned over the railing to take another shot. He knelt back down, panting.

"I heard you were still a work in progress." His eyes lingered on her face and the orange lines on her hands.

"I just woke up," she said flatly, rising up to fire at another mech. One shot to the chest, another to the head and it dropped.

"I'm Jacob Taylor. You must be lost." A shot rang against the glass by his head and Jacob frowned. "Look, I'm happy to fill you in but let's handle one problem at a time."

"Fair enough." Together, they both stood. Shepard moved left, jogging and drawing fire, shooting back as she ran. Biotics suddenly lit up the room as Jacob pulled a mech toward him, shooting it in mid-air. Shepard raised an eyebrow, impressed by his control but returned her attention to the mech firing at her. She dodged one shot, ducking down low then popping back up. The mech dropped but her thermal clip gave out. Cursing, she reached for another, sliding into position. But by then Jacob had taken care of the last mech. With a groan it dropped and the courtyard fell mercifully silent.

"All right, Jacob Taylor. I need details, stat. Where the hell am I and what happened?"

The two soldiers faced each other down. Jacob ran one hand over his tightly cropped hair, looking at a loss for words.

"Look, I'm no doctor, okay? I don't have the best bedside manner. But you deserve to hear the truth straight. Your ship, the Normandy? It was attacked by a species called the Collectors. Completely destroyed your vessel and you got spaced. We've spent two years trying to put you back together. You've been comatose, or worse, for a long time."

Images. So many images. They crowded in her head, released by his words. The strange ship. Pressley's blood. Ashley running for the pods. Finding Joker. The golden beam.

Pain.

Cold.

Breathless.

Shepard gasped for breath, bracing her hands on her knees. "That's not, not possible," she said in between breaths. "If I died, how am…how am I here? It doesn't make sense."

"Are you okay?" She heard him move closer and she swung her pistol up without looking.

"Stay away from me. I just…need a minute." The sound of his footsteps halted and she closed her eyes, struggling to find equilibrium as the world seemed to rock beneath her feet.

"Two years?" she finally said.

"I don't pretend to understand the science behind it. That's Miranda's department. But yeah, you've been out for two years. I'm sorry."

"Am I a…a clone? An AI?"

"No!" exclaimed Jacob. "You're, well, you're Shepard. The real Shepard. Trust me, I saw you when they brought you in here, and I've seen you just about every day since. I don't know how they did it, but they really did. Bring you back to life, I mean."

"And my team?" she asked, her voice low.

"Twenty-one died that day, including you. I don't know the names. You can check a roster when we get out of here."

_What about Nate?_ her mind screamed. _Is he all right? And Garrus? Oh God, Garrus. I've been gone for two years. _

But she was in enemy territory. She couldn't give them anything they could use against her later. It was bad enough to be in their debt without handing over all of her vulnerabilities. She forced herself to quiet her mind, to refocus. Get out of here, escape and get back to the Citadel. That had to be the plan. First, that meant survival.

She straightened up, swallowing tightly.

"You deserve to know what's what, especially with your history," said Jacob, crossing his arms. "This isn't an Alliance facility. They declared you killed in action. We're…"

"Cerberus," Shepard finished, cocking her head.

Jacob's eyes widened but he nodded. "The Illusive Man spent a fortune to bring you back. Things have changed."

"I don't care what they've done. I don't work with terrorists," snapped Shepard, lifting her gaze.

The sight of those infamous grey-blue eyes meeting his with such intensity was enough to make Jacob take an involuntary step backward. Then he steeled himself.

"Look, you can tell it to the boss. But right now, let's just get out of here. Someone wants you dead, and I didn't spend the last two years guarding this place just to let them kill you as soon as you wake up. So are you ready to get the hell off this station?"

Shepard was mildly impressed by the coolness in his voice but it was easy to ignore. She stalked past him.

"Like you would not believe."

* * *

"What the fuck are you doing?" yelled Shepard, raising her weapon.

The woman simply raised an eyebrow as she holstered her pistol. Her face was familiar: slightly round, thick black hair, those icy blue eyes. And her voice, Shepard definitely knew.

"My job. Wilson betrayed us all. He turned the mechs against the facility." Her voice was aloof, unfazed by the sight of the dead med tech Wilson at her feet.

"Why?" asked Jacob, completely dumb-founded. Shepard had a feeling he looked that way a lot.

"Does it really matter? He's a traitor, now he's gone. And it's time for us to get out of here."

"Are you always this high-handed with people's lives?" asked Shepard, incredulous.

Miranda looked her up and down. "Yes," she replied.

"I'm not going anywhere with anyone until a few questions get answered," said Shepard shortly. "I know you work for Cerberus. Where are we going?"

"To another Cerberus facility. My boss wants to speak with you."

"I bet he does," muttered Shepard. "I seem to remember ignoring his most recent message."

"And look where that got you."

Shepard's eyes flashed. This woman appeared to have helped…rebuild her. Yet she looked at Shepard like a bug, another lab specimen, one she did not find all that interesting. It was very different from the look of concern Shepard suddenly remembered.

"Is this the only shuttle left?" she asked.

Miranda nodded. "Unless you want to rot here with the mechs, I suggest we depart."

"What is with the attitude?" asked Shepard, frustrated. "You apparently saved my life. Did my injuries offend you that much?"

"You don't trust me because I'm Cerberus. I don't trust you because you're Alliance. Let's call it a day and move on."

Miranda turned around and headed for the shuttle, leaving Jacob to shrug at Shepard and follow after her.

* * *

"We need to run some memory tests, see how much cognitive function has returned," said Miranda on board the shuttle, her legs delicately crossed, looking through a holo and setting her omni tool to record. "Given your performance in the facility, we can accept that as evidence of your combat skills."

"Miranda, she just woke up! Give her some time to let her mind reboot," complained Jacob.

"We need to be sure that the Lazarus Project was successful before she meets with the Illusive Man," she replied evenly.

Shepard crossed her arms, ignoring the fact that her thin scrubs did nothing to protect her against the chill. She made the mistake of looking out the window of the small shuttle. Blackness, broken up by stars. It was so big, so empty.

She was there. Floating, drifting, powerless to save herself. Space opened up around her as she struggled to breathe, the leaking oxygen creating a small cloud around her. She shuddered and closed her eyes, willing herself to feel the solidity of the bench beneath her.

Miranda cleared her throat softly.

"So you were raised aboard various space stations by your parents. What were their names?

"Ronald and Hannah Shepard. My father was killed in the First Contact War," said Shepard shortly.

"Yes. That seems to have been a formative experience for you. How would you describe your relationship with turians?"

Rough skin against her cheek. Broad shoulders. A wicked grin. Long fingers wrapped around her waist.

"Fine," answered Shepard shortly. "Officer Vakarian was an important member of my team. I was glad to have him."

Miranda raised an eyebrow at her. "That's inconsistent with what your record shows. Bar fights, negative comments recorded by the media, your attempts to keep Vakarian off your team…"

Shepard remained silent.

"You were attacked by a thresher maw soon after you enlisted," said Jacob, breaking the silence. "You and squad were ambushed on the planet Akuze. Do you remember that?"

"I remember that it was a Cerberus operation," replied Shepard, finally raising her head to glare daggers at Miranda. "Fifty people died that day."

"That was not a sanctioned Cerberus operation," retorted Miranda. "It was after that attack that you stopped using your biotics."

"Which reminds me: why can't I use them now?"

For the first time, Miranda looked slightly uncomfortable. "The Illusive Man gave me strict orders that you were not to be—altered—in any way. Same appearance, same personality, same Shepard. Reactivate you, in a way. But your biotic implants were completely destroyed, between the sub-zero temperatures of space and the crash onto Alchera. So when we rewired you, we…upgraded."

"You now have L5 implants," explained Jacob. "Your biotics are much more powerful than you've ever experienced. Your natural strength is already impressive. Now they're amplified. It will take some time to get used to. We weren't able to test them before you woke up."

This new surprise barely penetrated Shepard's mind. There was too much to absorb.

"All right, one more question. When we began reconstruction we discovered unexpected scars. Like those from a Caesarian section. Do you want to tell us about your child and why he or she is nowhere in your records?"

The biotic glow that suddenly lit up the interior of the shuttle took everyone by surprise. Shepard felt like her whole body was alight with power and fury. She leaned forward, more power gathering at her hands.

"You will not ever mention that. To anyone. As far as this galaxy knows, I never had a child and you will certainly never know who they are. Do I make myself _very_ clear?" Her voice was deathly quiet. This was Commander Shepard, first human Spectre, the woman who had taken down Saren and stopped a Reaper invasion. Jacob suddenly understood why this was not a woman to be trifled with.

Miranda's own biotics flickered. "Do you want to shred this shuttle and die all over again? Stand down, Commander!"

"I would rather let all three of us die before I allow any more harm to come to my son. Promise me. You will never speak of this again."

The threat hung in the air.

"I promise," said Miranda finally. "Now stand down."

The biotic glow died in an instant, leaving Shepard dizzy. But still she leaned back against her seat and crossed her arms, her suspicious eyes watching the pair of them.

"I guess we have proof that your personality is intact. I can't wait to see how your interview with the Illusive Man goes," said Miranda dryly.

Shepard smirked and closed her eyes.

* * *

**Next up, meeting with the Illusive Man and Shepard attempts to readjust to life. Garrus will be missing for a few chapters but don't worry. He'll be back :) **

**Please take a moment to leave a review! Thoughts, comments, suggestions! The few seconds it takes you to leave a note leaves me with a happy glowy feeling that keeps me writing for a long time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**New chapter ready to go! Thank you for all the thoughtful reviews! I really appreciate them and they help motivate me to continue writing. I'm a little outside my normal 7-10 day window, but real life has a habit of being, well, life. But here's a new chapter, longer than expected. I was thinking that Garrus would be quiet for a while but he was determined to make an appearance this chapter. Stubborn turian. I also took some liberties with canon. Enjoy the twist!**

**All copyright belongs to Bioware; I'm just taking a spin through their universe.**

* * *

Chapter 4

"He's waiting for you in there." Miranda gestured vaguely down the hall and then marched away, barking orders at some man in another black and white uniform. Shepard raised an eyebrow at Jacob who just grimaced.

Seeing that she was going to get no more answers from either of them, Shepard turned down the hallway, heading for the door. A few people poked their heads out of offices, or stopped in their tracks to watch her walk. They looked like they had seen a ghost.

_Well, _Shepard thought wryly, _I guess they have._

What was meant to be a joke in her head however was very quickly turning to panic. Her palms began to sweat and she focused on taking in deep breaths as she walked, trying to remain outwardly calm. Two years? She had been—dead—for two years? How was that even possible?

She felt a brief sense of relief that the Reapers had not shown up in the last two years-or at least she assumed that they had not. The events on the Citadel had bought them more time than she had expected…but now it had been wasted.

So many questions burned in her brain, an overwhelming load. What would she ask the Illusive Man first? Her first instinct was not to ask anything, but to shoot. This was the head of the Cerberus organization, a terrorist group! They had killed her squad on Akuze, done horrible experiments, murdered Admiral Kahoku.

They had also rebuilt her. Saved her. Brought her back to fight again. Her feelings of gratitude were mired in the swamp of hatred she had lived in for so long. How was she going to give that up? Did she have to? Would they let her go, allow her to return to the Alliance and continue with her life? What plans did they have for her?

"Only one way to find out," she murmured to herself. Realizing she was just standing in front of the door, she shook her head, brushing that blasted too short hair away and hit the panel.

The room was dark and empty of furniture. Shepard frowned, stepping inside, the door sliding shut behind her. Her fingers twitched; she wished she still had the pistol she had left on the shuttle.

Then bright blue lights shot up from the ceiling and floor, enveloping her in a grid. She jumped then scowled. The coward could not even face her in person.

In front of her, an image of a seated man materialized. Dark brown hair, brushed carelessly to the side, framed a strong face with eyes that watched her intently. They were an electric blue and with a shock, Shepard realized they were electric in more than one way. They were cybernetic. A black tunic hung on his shoulders over a plain white shirt. If it were not for the eyes, this man would never have been noticeable in a street. He was a very unassuming looking criminal master mind.

The two stared at each other for another long moment, two predators eyeing each other, waiting to see who would snap first. Very slowly, the man reached up to take a pull off of an old fashioned cigarette, casually blowing away the smoke, though his eyes still never left hers.

"Don't you know those things will kill you?" Shepard finally asked, one eyebrow quirked.

The Illusive Man smirked.

"Commander Shepard. I'm glad to see Miranda got it right. Your personality seems intact, as well as your memory and combat skills."

"Good news travels fast," she drawled, inwardly struggling to maintain the same nonchalant attitude.

"I only work with the best," he admitted. "That's why it was so important to bring you back."

"We have a lot to talk about before I'm signing any contracts with you," she replied, with a bit more venom than she intended. "When do you plan on showing up to see your creation in person?"

"The hologram is a necessary precaution. I know it will be some time before we can overcome our past relationship…"

"You mean where Cerberus hunted down my squad and almost killed me in some sick experiment on thresher maws?" spat Shepard. "Or were you talking about the incident where you killed an Admiral of the Alliance?"

The Illusive Man took another draw of his cigarette.

"What happened is in the past. I cannot change it. What I can do is look toward the future and see the threat against humanity that lies ahead. The same threat you want to stop."

"The Reapers," said Shepard, gritting her teeth. "What do you know about the Reapers?"

"Enough to know that they must be stopped. That's where you come in. One woman might be all that stands between humanity and the greatest threat of our existence."

"You place a pretty high value on the life of someone you tried to have killed," she remarked.

"I've learned your value, at great cost I might add. How are you feeling?"

Her head was spinning from the conversation but her jaw tightened at the affected concern in his voice.

"We're not friends. You don't need to pretend and act like you're going to be my buddy. You spent your millions…"

"Billions."

"Billions of credits to resuscitate me. You want something. Tell me what it is so we can move on."

"We're at war, but no one wants to admit it. Humanity is under attack, and no one is giving a damn about it," said the Illusive Man. "Human colonies have been disappearing, vanishing into the darkness of space. We believe that this is connected to the Reapers, that they are using new agents to abduct the colonists. We may have different methods, but we want the same goal: to protect humanity."

Shepard was still laboring to process that information through a sudden bloom of fear. Human colonies were disappearing? _Dear God_, _Nate and Cleon left for the colonies._

"Which colonies?" she asked abruptly, finally stepping out of her casual, cross-armed stance. "I want lists of each colony taken and those dead or missing."

The Illusive Man took in the wideness of her eyes and nodded. "Your child. He's in a colony, isn't he?"

Somehow, she was not surprised that she knew of Nate's existence. It was the source of his information, and the depth of it, that concerned her.

"How do you know about my son?" she growled.

"The exploits of that fool Socrates were not hard for me to track down. But I've kept that information close. I know for you to function at full capacity, he must be protected. And while I trust my operatives, I'm not so much a fool as to believe information can't get leaked. His whereabouts and status will remain a complete mystery to anyone but the two of us."

Shepard felt the unspoken threat hanging in the air. As long as she cooperated, Nate would be safe.

"You bloody bastard," she whispered. "If one of your Cerberus goons goes near him, or harms him in any way, I will…"

"You can save the threats, Shepard. I have no intention of harming Nathan. I want you to see that we can work together, have each other's backs if you will. I have the extensive resources to protect your son from the Shadow Broker. You have the willpower and the knowledge to save this galaxy. You are unique, more than a soldier, but a symbol. You stood for humanity in a moment of crisis. That makes you valuable to me, and my protection of your family is valuable to you. We can be allies."

Shepard's fists clenched and unclenched as she turned over all that was implied.

"And if I choose to walk out of here? Head back for the Alliance?" she asked.

"Then that is your choice. I did not allow Miranda to put a control chip in your head for a reason. But the Alliance and the Council are blind to the threat that faces us. And if you and I are not allies, then there's no reason for me to waste my resources protecting your son when I will need every man and woman I have to stop the Reapers. But I don't think you will want to walk away. Not after you've visited one of these colonies."

His fingers reached out and he began typing on a console. Shepard's heart was pounding. This man was very good at his job, and bloody dangerous. She was neatly trapped.

"The colony of Freedom's Progress was hit five hours ago. The Alliance has not had time to arrive and make a mess. I want you to go there, investigate, and see what you find. I think you'll find that we're right. The Reapers are behind these attacks, and we're the only ones doing a damn thing to stop it. I brought you back, but it's up to you to do the rest."

"I'm going to need better equipment." She plucked at her scrubs.

"Miranda will see to that. Eat and have her brief you. Find out what you can in Freedom's Progress. Try to find some connection to the Reapers. We'll talk later."

And just like that, the call ended. Shepard let out a deep breath, sinking onto her haunches as she ran her fingers through her hair. Nate was safe, for as long as she cooperated. She did not like blackmail, but something else pricked at her. The Illusive Man had a passion to him that she recognized: it was the same thing she felt in regard to the Reaper threat. If what he was saying was true, that human colonies were being abducted and the Alliance was doing nothing to help, then wasn't it her duty to help protect them? She was a Council Spectre, or had been. That had to count for something.

As she stood back up, something occurred to her. She had never asked about Garrus. _Better that way_, she thought. _The Illusive Man already knows enough about me. If he thinks I have feelings for Garrus, he'll just use him as leverage. The more distant I am, the safer he will be._

_Besides, _she thought with a pang, _he's thought I was dead for two years. He's probably moved on. Maybe I should too._

* * *

Garrus slammed his empty drink down on the table, scowling at the bartender to bring him another. A wide berth had been given at the dirty counter. Omega was a place where the deranged and dangerous thrived. But Garrus still seemed to give off an air of 'Don't fuck with me' that people picked up on.

Activating his omnitool, he said to the VI program, "Access messages."

"What do we got?" she asked. He was used to her somewhat non-sequiter responses. Sometimes it even made him smile. The familiar grey blue gaze disappeared to let him scroll through messages. Some people might have thought it was masochistic that he used the VI program of his dead commander, but sometimes Garrus thought it was the only thing that got him through the day. Especially after Sidonis…

Garrus shook his head, going back to his messages, trying to ignore the murderous rage that always seemed to be hovering beneath the surface. After he had tweaked some bugs, his illegal VI program worked pretty well. She was good at watching his back. Like now.

"You've got two on your six," she suddenly said.

"Thanks, Rin," he whispered. She was set to recognize any identified merc pack members who approached within two meters of him. It was a useful feature.

Garrus suddenly spun, ducking underneath the swing of one man and ramming into the stomach of the other batarian with a shotgun drawn. They crashed into another table full of patrons, making the asari dancer squeal. Garrus pushed off of him and turned back to the other one, swinging his sniper rifle like a club. It caught him on the side of the head and with a curse he dropped. With his other hand Garrus reached for his assault rifle and fired at the batarian who had scrambled to his feet. He collapsed in a spray of blood.

He turned and kicked viciously at the other merc, dropping him again. Garrus leaned over him with his assault rifle, the pointed teeth of his predatory grin shining in the reddish lights. "Nice try," he said. "But not good enough."

"One of us will take you down, Archangel," snarled the man, trying to get out from underneath Garrus' boot. "You won't be able to hide from us forever."

Garrus' eyes flashed and he fired. Satisfied the man was dead, he stepped back, holstering his gun. "Who said I was trying to hide?" Then he turned and walked out of the dingy club, leaving a host of frightened patrons in his wake.

"We fight to protect the galaxy," chirped his omnitool.

"I used to," murmured Garrus, disappearing into an alleyway that had started to feel like home.

* * *

Shepard fingered the armor that was laid out for her. Perfectly measured, of course. It would fit her body like a glove. She cataloged it in her mind to distract her from the constant buzz of other thoughts.

Kinetic barrier, non-porous ballistic cloth reinforced by lightweight composite ceramic plates. Designed to burn away or ablate to avoid extensive burns to the soldier. Microframe computer, able to seal off different areas of the suit for the application of medigel. Lighter than it looked, sturdier than it should be. Cerberus certainly knew how to upgrade to include all the latest gadgets.

The chestplate made her grimace, not because they had gotten rid of the stupid curves that 'made room for her breasts' and changed it to a standard straight line finish that was much safer. Less risk of deflecting bullets toward her heart. Rather, it was because beneath the red, white and black image of her N7 designation, there was a small yellow and black symbol: Cerberus.

Shepard bared her teeth at it and turned to look around the room. Spotting the drawers, she rummaged through until she found exactly what she was looking for. Taking the old fashioned crowbar over to the armor, she set to vigorously scraping off the paint of the Cerberus symbol. It was damned harder than she was expecting and she was sweating by the time she had gotten the majority of it off. Stepping back to admire her handiwork, she almost backed into the lithe step of Miranda Lawson. The operative eyed what she had done disdainfully.

"You know you can alter its appearance in the armor locker?" she commented, gesturing toward the cabinet on the other side of the room.

Shepard just shrugged and began suiting up.

"It looked too perfect anyway," she said, trying to ignore the glowing orange lines that were spread across her body, making her ache. "Only rookies wear armor without a scratch on it."

"Suit yourself." Miranda turned to the weapons locker, reaching in to take out a submachine gun and heavy pistol. Shepard eyed the designations on the weapons.

"M-4 Shuriken and M-3 Predator. New models, I take it?"

Miranda smirked at that. "I would imagine just about everything is a new model to you. You must have a lot of questions."

It was all the opening Shepard was going to get.

"Has there been any movement by the Reapers?" she asked.

"Besides the disappearances of our colonists? Nothing concrete," Miranda answered. "No sightings, no more attacks. The Council has persuaded themselves, and the Alliance along with them, that Sovereign was a geth ship and that Saren was merely attempting to use the geth to overthrow them. Everything you dug up, it's been forgotten."

Shepard's hands almost shook with anger as she strapped on her gauntlets.

"They're starting to make me wonder why I saved their asses in the first place," she said darkly.

"You're just starting?" asked Miranda, ignoring the glare Shepard sent her way. "Well, the Illusive Man has a lot of confidence in your decision making and abilities. I guess we can only hope it's not misplaced."

Shepard straightened, fully armored except for her helmet. Her hair still hung loosely about her face; she looked wild and untamed in that moment.

"Look, we have to work together," said Shepard, a muscle twitching in her jaw. "Can we at least be civil with one another?"

"I have the utmost respect for your abilities, Shepard," said Miranda, almost tiredly. "It's your motivations that concern me. I believe in what Cerberus stands for. You have spent your entire Alliance career fighting us. Whether you will be an asset or a liability remains to be seen."

The two women inspected each other for a long moment. Slowly, Shepard nodded, her arms reaching out automatically to pull her hair back—only to be shocked again at its length and confused at her lack of a tie.

"Here." Jacob strode past them, handing her a simple black tie. Shepard stared at him quizzically for a moment and nodded her thanks. Miranda just shook her head.

"We've got an assignment, we can talk or we can do it." She moved past them, heading for the elevator down to the shuttle bay.

Jacob paused by Shepard, watching as she equipped her guns of choice. "You planning on bringing that helmet?"

"Nope." Her tone was curt as she checked her pistol.

He decided to let it go for the moment.

"I'm glad the Illusive Man convinced you to join us. I'm looking forward to working with you," he said friendly.

She scoffed at that. "I've agreed to work with him, for now. I definitely don't trust him. I'm here to check out this colony. Beyond that, I'm not making any promises."

"You know, that's how I felt when I first transferred from the Alliance. Now, I'm not so sure Cerberus is as bad as we were told."

He sounded so genuine that Shepard could only look at him in disbelief. He had left the Alliance for this? She supposed she should have seen that: the way he stood, the precision of his movements, the closely cropped hair. This was an Alliance man, through and through. So what the hell was he doing working with Cerberus?

It was one more mystery she did not have the processing power for.

"So, what can you tell me about this colony?" she asked, heading for the shuttle.

* * *

It was winter on Freedom's Progress. A light snow dusted the ground and made Shepard's breath appear on the wind. There was an eerie quiet: not the quiet of the night but the quiet of emptiness, echoing the void of space that she had traveled through…and in which she had apparently died.

The sight of that innocuous black helmet had made Shepard's very being vibrate with anxiety. Suddenly, her last few moments in her old life had become very, painfully, clear. Trapped in that helmet, oxygen leaking from the back of her suit, seeing the Normandy disintegrate through the blast, watching the onboard computer warn her that her suit damage was catastrophic. Shepard shook her head again, focusing on her surroundings, breathing in the cold crisp air deeply. She was alive, she was groundside, and she had a mission. That had to be enough for now.

The trio moved through the colony, finding each house as silent and empty as they had expected. Miranda and Jacob had seen this before, in reports. Seeing it in person was another aspect entirely. It just looked like everyone had gotten up and left. Minimal signs of a struggle: occasionally a cup was knocking over, liquid dripping to the ground. No marks of gunfire, no blood. The wrongness of it vibrated within Shepard.

And then there were the damn mechs.

"Why don't they recognize us as human?!" shouted Shepard over the gunfire, firing at one particularly annoying one that swoomed over her head. It exploded, making her curse and duck.

"Someone has re-calibrated their friend/foe protocols!" shouted Miranda back, overloading two of the LOKI mechs.

"The good news is, that means someone is still alive," added Jacob from beside Shepard.

"Fair point. But right now, they are just pissing me off!" The itch to use her biotics hovered but she resisted. If she had L5 implants, then she needed to learn how to use them all over again. Trying it out in the middle of a firefight was not ideal, or smart.

It took a few more minutes, but the squad of mechs were finally in pieces around them. Shepard opened her omnitool, searching.

"There. I have heat signatures coming from a few blocks over. There are still people here." Miranda looked shocked but said nothing. Jacob just smiled grimly.

"Then let's go find them."

If Shepard had had time to process the things she wanted most in the galaxy, they would have been in this order: to stop the Reapers. To know everyone she loved was safe. To get the hell away from Cerberus and back to the Alliance.

And closely tied to that would be to never let anyone she cared about know that she was now forever associated with Cerberus.

That dream was shot to hell as the door to the housing pod slid open and Shepard moved inside, weapon raised. A squad of quarians leaped up, weapons in hand. And then one very familiar figure pushed her way to the front, a little taller, slightly different, but still…

"Tali," breathed Shepard.

"Shepard!" Through the tint of her helmet, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya stared in disbelief. Shepard was different: her eyes, still that grey-blue, held a haunting sadness to them she could not remember. Her lip and cheek scars were gone, replaced by the thin tell-tale cracks of cybernetic reconstruction. Several deep gouges marked the front of her chestplate below her N7.

Her squad was not so interested in these details.

"Cerberus scum!" snarled one quarian.

"Stand down, Prazza! I told you I would handle this!" she barked behind her, her eyes still never leaving her old commander's. "Shepard? Is that really you?"

"It's me. Just upgraded," said Shepard quietly, lowering her weapon. "Cerberus brought me back, Tali. I'm here to help them investigate this missing colony. I never imagined that you…" Her voice trailed off, unable to formulate more words for that moment.

Tali's head tilted.

"Prove it," she said, a commanding tone to her voice that Shepard had never heard before. "As far as I know, you've been dead for two years. You could be a mech constructed to look like Shepard."

"Ask me anything, Tali," said Shepard, spreading her hands wide. "I certainly don't blame you for checking. I can't really believe it myself."

"Before I left the Normandy to return to the flotilla, we played one last game against…"

"…Ashley and Joker. He complained the whole time that it wasn't a fair fight and yet he still threw that damn Frisbee better than anyone," completed Shepard wryly. "The final score was 21 to 14. For me, that was only…five weeks ago." Shepard swallowed, again confronted by the loss of time.

Tali froze for only a moment and then she threw her arms around Shepard. "Keelah! It is you!"

Shepard hesitated briefly, then wrapped her arms gently around her former squadmate.

"You've grown taller," she said, her voice rough.

Tali chuckled and then jerked back, the flash of her eyes behind the glass telling Shepard that they had suddenly widened. "Keelah! You're alive!" she exclaimed again. "Does he know?"

* * *

**Any guesses who Tali is talking about? :)**

**Hope you enjoyed. As always, please leave a comment, suggestions, question etc. It's great to hear your thoughts! Especially as this story develops and things begin to change. Stay tuned! See you in about a week.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing and following this story. I'm happy to have you along for the ride!**

**I never put in this warning at the beginning so I'm sharing it now: some things will match up with canon. Some things will not. I do not guarantee that all the characters will survive or that they will be the same as they are in the games. If you read Pride Goes Before the Fall, you know what I'm talking about. You've been warned :)**

**And with that disclaimer, here's the next chapter! Enjoy. It has been beta'ed by AnneRene; thanks for all the help!**

**All copyright belongs to Bioware; I'm just taking a spin through their universe.**

Chapter 5

Shepard's heart was having a rude awakening to life. First of all, there was the shock of actually being _alive_. Then Cerberus. The Illusive Man's veiled threats. And now this.

Tali stepped back, her stance growing tense. Shepard swore in her head. If Tali revealed her attachment to Garrus, he would just be one more playing piece for Cerberus. It was bad enough Miranda had been watching her affection with her quarian friend.

The light on the front of Tali's helmet blinked, indicating she was about to clarify her question.

"No, I haven't," cut in Shepard, hardening her eyes and willing Tali to understand. "Anderson is better off not knowing. The Alliance hasn't done much since I've been gone. I need evidence of what's happening to these colonies before I appear in front of him."

There was silence for a second.

"Of course," said Tali slowly. "I doubt the Alliance would take your—association—with Cerberus well, anyway." The disdain in Tali's voice was very clear. Shepard wished desperately that she could see Tali's face, to see if she understood what she was trying to do.

Which made the callousness of what she said next that much harder.

"We have a job to do here, Tali. We can't have the quarian people interfering in human business." She winced internally as she saw Tali visibly start, her team behind her shifting and muttering restlessly.

"We're here to find one of our people," replied Tali, her voice now frosty. "Veetor was here on Pilgrimage. He signaled that there was an attack and communications got cut off. We came here to find him. Is that all right with you, Cerberus?" The barb was directed at Miranda, standing unimpressed behind Shepard, but the commander felt its sting regardless.

"He is also unstable," piped up Prazza. "A small settlement was a better place for him than the crowded Citadel. But with the attack, and an open-air exposure, he's now sick and likely delirious. We've been trying to pin him down for two hours."

"He ran away when we landed. We think he's now sealed himself in a warehouse on the other side of the colony," said Tali, turning her back on the group to pick up her shotgun.

"Wait, so he wasn't taken? He survived?" asked Shepard, incredulous.

"Only human colonists have been taken so far," said Miranda. "It's possible that they are using technology specifically pinpointed to human DNA, allowing Veetor to escape detection."

"We need to find him. He could tell us what happened to the colonists," said Jacob, excitement in his eyes.

"That's why _we _are here," said Tali, her eyes glinting. "We'll take care of him. This does not concern you."

"These are human colonies disappearing," argued Miranda, stepping forward. "We need to know what's happening. Veetor has answers that humanity needs."

"That Cerberus needs, you mean," shot back Prazza.

Before a true argument could break out, Shepard moved between Tali and Miranda, holding out her hands.

"Tali, you know me. I can handle this. Let us retrieve Veetor, get what information we need and then we will deliver him to you. Can you trust me?"

"Not while you're working with Cerberus," said Prazza darkly.

Tali waved her hand at him, but her posture remained defiant. Shepard's heart sank.

"We can't do that, Shepard. We could use your help, but I'm not going to wait here while you fight through the mechs Veetor has programmed to protect himself. I'm not the little girl on her Pilgrimage anymore."

"You haven't been that for a long time, Tali," said Shepard, her voice hushed."

"We'll work together then," said Tali decisively. "My squad can move around the far side of the colony. We will try and draw some drones away from you. Head for this location. We'll meet you there to extract Veetor."

Tali opened up her omnitool, sharing the location with Shepard. If Shepard noticed the short message Tali sent along with it on a separate, encrypted channel, she gave no sign of it in front of Miranda and Jacob.

"Keep in radio contact," said Shepard. "We'll meet you on the far side." Tali nodded and headed out, her squad following, some shooting glances back at the Cerberus team.

"She was part of your crew from the original Normandy, right?" asked Jacob. "You sent her and Ashley Williams away from the Citadel on a secret mission when you went after Saren?"

Shepard moved past him. "Yes. I did."

"This is going to be a son of a bitch to take down!" yelled Miranda from behind some crates. She could barely be heard over the weapons fire of the heavy mech bearing down on them. The crew had been able to move fairly quickly through Freedom's Progress, the drones little more than irritations between Shepard's accuracy, Jacob's biotics, and Miranda's overload capabilities. But then Tali had radioed, warning Shepard that her squad had rushed ahead without her and that Veetor had activated a heavy mech in panic.

Now Shepard surveyed the scene. Blood stained the ground where the mech had killed the quarian squad, crushing one woman underfoot who had tripped, then gunning down the rest. Tali was still trying to make their way to them, having been locked into one of the prefabs. Shepard was not concerned about her: Tali could hack her way out of anything, and this was no exception. Her concern at the moment was taking down this heavy mech without damage to herself or her team because right now, like it or not, Miranda and Jacob were her team.

"Miranda, move left and overload its shields! Jacob, cover fire," shouted Shepard. "Go!"

Her team surged out, Miranda overloading and ducking behind cover again. Jacob released a barrage of weapons fire, drawing the mech's attention. He ran for the nearest set of crates while Shepard opened fire, aiming for its weak points as the shields finally gave out. But the armor was thick and her shots were not as effective.

Time slowed down.

Shepard knew how this scene was about to unfold in front of her. Jacob would not outrun the fire; the mech would shoot him. Miranda was heated, passionate. She would react, firing without thinking. She would get hit too. And Shepard would be alone.

So it was with very limited forethought that Shepard dropped her pistol to the ground, gathered blue fire in her right hand and hurled it at the mech. Her biotics surged through her system, leaving her hand in a warp more powerful than anything she had ever experienced. It slammed into the side of the mech, making it stumble as pieces of its armor disintegrated. The effort left Shepard gasping, her whole body beginning to light up. It was heady, this power, and easily distracting.

Pain started to emerge up her spine and into her head as she gathered another warp. The mech turned its attention on her.

"Shepard, stop!" shouted Miranda, her own warp crashing into the head of the mech. "Stand down, you're not ready!"

Shepard growled with the intense effort of letting her biotics die, scooping up her pistol with ease and firing at the now exposed wiring. The mech had time to let off one more blast which took out Jacob's shields, making him stumble, but the combined force of Shepard's and Miranda's blows did their work. The mech dropped, sparking.

"Everybody down!"

The team threw themselves to the ground at Shepard's command, and the mech exploded, shards of metal flying all around them. In the silence that followed, Shepard stood, her whole body shaking from adrenaline.

"Those implants…are definitely something else," she said, trying to get her breath.

Miranda did not look pleased, as usual.

"What were you thinking? I told you not to use your biotics yet, you're not ready—"

"It's my body," interrupted Shepard. "You may have rebuilt it, but it belongs to me. Would you rather I let Jacob be taken out like the quarians?" As she spoke, she had moved over to one the quarians, scanning for life signs.

"Of course not," said Miranda. "But you have to let your body adjust. Too much too quickly could send your system into overload."

"I think the commander gets it," interjected Jacob. "Let's go find this quarian and see what he knows. That's what we're here for."

"I like the way you think, Jacob," said Shepard, giving him a half-smile. "Someone who can keep his eye on the mission. Definitely an Alliance trait."

Miranda huffed but followed them into the warehouse.

A wall of screens met them, with a small figure hunched over the controls. His mutterings were unintelligible, his three-fingered hands moving quickly over the keys, hooded head darting back and forth to take in one screen after another.

"Monsters coming back. Safe from swarms. Have to hide…"

"Veetor?" Shepard asked, approaching him softly. "Are you okay?"

"No Veetor, not here, monsters can't find him," he replied, not even looking at her.

"Great, our only witness is a babbling idiot," complained Miranda. "What a waste."

Shepard watched him for a moment and then looked up at the screens. Frowning, she lit up her omnitool and waved it across them. One by one, they shut down. Stunned into silence, Veetor finally looked at her.

"You're human," he said, shocked. "How did they not find you?"

"We weren't here when the colony was attacked," said Shepard slowly. "We're here to help. Can you tell us what happened? Were you injured?" She noticed the rent in his suit on his arm, as if it had been caught on something sharp and yanked open.

"The monsters and their swarms took everyone. I saw everything." He touched his suit injury casually and then turned his hands back to his controls, occasionally twitching.

The screens came back to life, all of them uniting into one terrifying image.

"He must have pieced the security footage together manually," said Miranda quietly.

"What the hell is that?" asked Jacob, his brow furrowed.

Shepard felt a strange sense of déjà vu, like she was standing in front of the screen in the old Normandy, watching the claw of the Reaper Sovereign descend on the colony of Eden Prime. It sent a shiver up her spine as she remembered how life altering that footage, and the day that had followed, had been. She knew this would be another.

"It looks familiar," she said slowly. Her mind sorted through the images from the beacon. The triangular shaped heads of the figures in the video echoed through time.

"I recognize them slightly from the Cipher and the visions," she continued. "Whoever they are, they were here the last time the Reapers were."

"God damn," whispered Jacob. "So it's true. The Reapers are behind this."

"It can't be. They look like Collectors," said Miranda, leaning in for a closer look.

"They came with their swarms, they stung everyone. And then they packed them away, took them to the sky. I hid. I stayed behind. The monsters didn't find me," babbled Veetor, getting more and more nervous as he watched the video.

"The Collectors? I thought they were a myth!" said Shepard, looking back at the Cerberus operative.

"They appear and make trades for technology and hard to find items. Then they disappear through the Omega-4 relay. No one has ever followed them and made it back."

"And we know the Reapers built the relays to make sure we developed the way they wanted," said Shepard, shaking her head. "Shit. The Illusive Man was right. The Collectors are taking our colonists and handing them to the Reapers."

"We should bring Veetor back with us to interrogation, see what other information we can get," said Miranda, already typing orders into her omnitool for the shuttle.

"You won't be doing any such thing." Tali strode in, holding her shotgun lowered but ready.

"Veetor is sick and traumatized. He needs to go back to the Fleet and receive medical treatment, not be brutalized by you!"

"No one is going to hurt Veetor," said Shepard calmly, holding up her hands. "But he has information we need, Tali."

"And you can have it. After he's been treated."

"You have my word no harm will come to your friend," said Jacob. "We will return him to the Fleet within a few days."

"With his mind broken! Shepard, you can't allow this!" Tali turned to her old commander, her voice pleading.

"Of course I'm not. What about Veetor's omnitool? All his recordings and data? That will be enough to give us some leads to follow. This is important, Tali." Shepard stepped forward, holding out her hand. "If the Collectors are working for the Reapers, then this is worse than I thought. You saw what Sovereign was. We have to stop this."

Tali sighed and then put her hand into Shepard's, shaking it gently. "I do trust you, Shepard. Even if I don't understand." Her helmet shifted to glance at Miranda and Jacob.

"Someday, you'll have to tell me the story of how you survived the attack on the Normandy," she said, taking Veetor's arm and typing commands into his omnitool, making Shepard's light up.

"Someday, I'll tell you. When I have the answers."

She wanted so badly to talk to Tali, to ask questions, to make sure everything was okay. The Reapers, the Collectors, they were all connected to these disappearances. Shepard knew, with a sinking heart, that the Illusive Man now had her thoroughly trapped. She could not turn away from this now. The Collectors were targeting human colonies for the Reapers, for purposes unknown. If the Alliance and the Council were not going to help, then she and Cerberus would have to be reluctant bedfellows for a while. She had to stop the Reapers at all costs. If that meant sacrificing some of her morals to do it, then so be it. This was bigger than her.

So that was why she was standing in front of the Cerberus shuttle, shaking Tali's hand and wishing her luck. Not asking her for help. Not begging her to join her in this fight, to compromise herself by teaming up with Cerberus.

"Stay safe, Tali," said Shepard. "I hate to ask this, but I'd prefer to remain anonymous for now. I want to present my—return—to the Alliance and the Council and…others…once I'm ready. I'm still adjusting."

"How long have you…?" asked Tali delicately.

Shepard shrugged. "I'm estimating…nineteen hours?"

Tali's sudden change in posture made it clear that she was shocked. Shepard could feel the weight of her eyes on the orange cracks across her cheeks.

"Well, I'm glad you're back," said Tali hesitantly. "I missed you. I hope you know what you're doing," she added, releasing her hand.

Shepard gave a sad smirk. "Don't I always?"

Tali chuckled and waved goodbye, helping Veetor into her waiting shuttle. Shepard turned away and climbed into her own white, black and yellow craft, hating the symbol that graced its side and knowing it was her only option.

Onboard, she ignored Miranda and Jacob's conversation to open up her omnitool. Tapping Tali's message, she fought to school her face to keep it completely blank.

_He left the Citadel. I have not heard from him in over a year. Liara might be able to help._

Shepard deleted the message and leaned back, pondering. Where had Garrus gone? And why did Tali think Liara could help track him down?

"I just read Miranda's report. You did take your time coming down to the QEC," drawled the Illusive Man.

Shepard just smiled pleasantly and rubbed her freshly washed hair, still slightly damp. She had taken some pleasure out of the knowledge that the Illusive Man was impatiently waiting for her to appear.

"I wanted to appear professionally as we solidified our partnership," she said dryly.

He raised an eyebrow, putting down his cigarette.

"I'm surprised to hear you say that so easily. Found something to change your mind?"

"That video shows that the Collectors are abducting human colonists, and I _know _them from somewhere. The Cipher—it's trying to tell me something. Add to that that they can go in and out of a relay no one else can, a relay built by the Reapers, and I'd say we have a connection."

"Well you and I have different methods, but the same results. Now that we've confirmed the Collectors are working for the Reapers, we can move ahead."

"You already knew the Collectors were behind this," stated Shepard, crossing her arms. "You don't seem surprised."

"I had my suspicions, but your intimate knowledge of the Reapers has already proven useful. Now we know there is a connection. I knew we were right to bring you back." He was practically smirking at her.

"If we want to get the Alliance and Council behind us, we'll need more proof," said Shepard. "The Council doesn't exactly take me at my word."

"Our energy can be better spent elsewhere," said the Illusive Man. "You need to assemble a team, stop the kidnappings and end this threat. I've assembled dossiers of some of the best in the galaxy: mercenaries, engineers, marines, biotics. You'll need all sorts to figure out what the Collectors are doing and stop them."

"I have the final say on anyone I work with," said Shepard firmly. "And I still intend on reaching out to the Alliance and the Council. I'm not going to hide from them forever."

"That's your decision. I brought you back to do what you do best. I may not always agree with how you operate, but I trust you to get the job done. I do highly recommend however that you begin on Omega. There's a scientist there, Mordin Solus. Brilliant, but eccentric. You'll need him to create something to counteract these Seeker swarms we saw on Freedom's Progress. There's also a mercenary, Zaeed Massani, one of the best in the galaxy. And another who has been causing all kinds of trouble for gangs on Omega. Goes by the name of Archangel."

"One stop shopping then," said Shepard. "I'll check them out and decide then. But I hope you don't expect me to fit all these people into that shuttle. It's nice, but not exactly up to standard."

"You have not been the only project I've been working on for the last two years, Shepard," said the Illusive Man. "I think you'll find that it surpasses your standards. Certainly your pilot thinks so."

The holo disintegrated, leaving Shepard briefly fuming.

"What happened to 'I decide who I work with?'" she muttered to herself, turning to the doorway.

"Ouch. That hurts, Commander."

She froze, staring at the figure outlined in the light of the hallway.

"Joker?" she whispered, her chest thumping.

He stepped inside, that same cocky grin on his face, the swagman cap on his head, tilting in the light with his limp.

"Who else has this same charm?" he asked with a shrug.

"Damn few," she said, a broad grin starting to spread across her face. "Are you really coming with me? Traded camps and everything?"

"The Alliance grounded me after…what happened." Suddenly Joker's face changed, becoming more serious than she had ever seen it.

Well, that was not true. She flashbacked to his face, lit up by that deadly golden beam, eyes wide and face pale. She swallowed, shaking it away. But then she saw it in his eyes too.

"I saw you get spaced," he blurted. "Ashley nearly killed me when she found out. So, go ahead. I deserve it." He straightened up and closed his eyes.

Shepard frowned, tilting her head. "Clarify, please?"

He cracked open one eye.

"I got you killed. Everyone said it. Except Garrus. He didn't say anything." Shepard's heart lurched but she kept her face impassive. "But you, of all people, deserved it. So here you go. One free shot at a cripple, the only guilt free shot you'll ever get."

Shepard stared and then chuckled. Her chuckle grew louder and louder until she was full on howling. Joker stared at her like she had lost her mind. When the laughter finally died down, she wiped away tears from her eyes and grinned at Joker.

"You are something else, you know that?" she said, the occasional chuckle still slipping out. "You think I blame you for what happened? You piloted the Normandy long enough to get almost everyone to a life pod. You tried to climb out of your own pod to save me. It was a freak attack, Joker." She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Don't blame yourself. I don't. We'll find whoever took away the Normandy and make them pay."

Joker cleared his throat, scratching at his cap.

"Yeah, about that. Come on, I've got to show you something."

They moved at as fast a pace as Joker could manage. "Where are we going?" she asked as he took her down another corridor. "And how the hell did you wind up here?"

"Like I said, the Alliance grounded me after the Normandy. PTSD, or some bullshit like that. They just didn't like me spouting off about the Reapers, or any of us who were on the crew. They split us up and shut us up. So when Cerberus approached me about going after them? Hell yeah I signed up. And then I found out about this."

He pulled her up to a long line of windows, showing only darkness. Turning to the Cerberus tech at a row of consoles down the hall, he nodded. Shepard grinned, watching his face light up like a little kid. Then she turned to face the windows again and heard herself gasp as the lights came up.

"They only told me this morning," said Joker with glee.

Under the lights, a beautiful, remarkable, perfect, _shiny_ ship greeted her eyes. The sleek lines, the lustrous wings, that blend of the best of human and turian technology: it was a recreation of the Normandy. But…"It's so big," she murmured, eyes wide.

Joker barked a laugh at that. "Oh, Commander. That's just too easy. Give me something harder."

The two met eyes and burst out laughing again.

"Come on!" said Shepard, heading for the door. "We have a ship to inspect."

"She needs a name," called out the tech.

"She already has one," Shepard yelled back.

**Joker's back! How do you think it went? Did you expect Shepard to be angry?**

**Next up, we get a tour of the Normandy and Shepard heads to Omega. Who will she contact first? Mordin? Archangel? Zaeed? How long will I drag out this reunion? Only time will tell!**

**Please leave a review, comment, suggestion, question. I enjoy them all and make sure to respond. See you next week!**


	6. Chapter 6

***pokes head out from behind desk* is anyone going to throw things? I don't blame you, I know I'm late with this chapter. AnneRene got it back to me on time...and I just didn't get post. Huge thanks to her for being my beta and putting up with my lack of a schedule. You can blame my real life job, which has interfered with my writing time.**

**So here it is! Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 6

Stepping onto the gangway of the Normandy, Marion Shepard felt as if she were taking her first breath since she had awoken, confused and sore and naked. It was all the same…but so different. It was unsettling even as it comforting.

"Excuse me, I have a new leather chair to shape perfectly to my—"

"We get it, Joker," said Shepard amusedly, stepping back as the pilot hurried past her. "Enjoy."

"Yet another reminder that our pilot came on board due to his reputation and not to his charm," said Miranda from behind Shepard.

From the corner of her eye, Shepard could have sworn she saw the operative smirking, but she ignored it. She wasn't sure the woman knew which muscles could make her face smile.

"Welcome to the Normandy, Commander Shepard," said Jacob, striding toward them. The new lights brightened every corner of the bridge, highlighting the sheer size of the vessel she was now standing on.

"She seems to have gotten a few…upgrades," said Shepard, turning to take in her new ship…and the black and white uniforms of the people around her.

"I'd be happy to give you a tour, Shepard," said Miranda, sounding anything but.

"Well, I can't command a ship if I don't know how all the parts work," said Shepard, moving past her down the bridge. She knew she was taking a perverse pleasure by harassing Miranda, and that this was probably not the best course of action- considering the operative was likely tasked with spying on her- but it made her smile nonetheless. And right now, she would take whatever she could get.

Though it had started with less than noble intentions, Shepard found a true joy in touring the SR-2. Walking through the intact CIC made the image of the destroyed shell she had last moved through seem a distant memory. Many members of the Cerberus crew turned to stare and then salute; they seemed suitably impressed. The commander noted that they moved with a brisk efficiency; none seemed to be brainwashed or incapable. When Miranda introduced her to Yeoman Kelly Chambers, however, Shepard had a brief moment of doubt. The red-haired, bright eyed yeoman was awed and honored to be working for the great Commander Shepard, she could count on her, etc etc. Shepard finally had to hold up a hand to get the young woman to stop talking.

"You have a degree in psychology?" she managed to ask.

"Yes. In addition to helping you with your messages, I will manage the crew and ensure that everyone is fully capable of pursuing our mission. On such a high risk venture, it's important to keep a constant eye on moral, a finger on the pulse of the crew, so to say."

It was the most serious Chambers had been in the seven minutes they had been talking. Shepard blinked, and suddenly saw the flash of intense curiosity, concentration, and intelligence in those bright green eyes. It was reassuring.

"As you were, Chambers," she said with a smile. Kelly nodded and returned to her console.

The labs were impressive, as was the armory. The command deck as a whole was absolutely massive, the galaxy map a perfect replica. The crew quarters were cleanly designed, allowing more space for the larger crew to be able to move and work. What had once been Shepard's quarters had been turned into a spacious office for Miranda. Knowing that Miranda was waiting for her to ask where her own quarters were, Shepard just nodded and walked out, heading for the medical bay.

The shocking, but welcome, reunion that followed between her and Dr. Karin Chakwas almost made Shepard tear up. The kind but sharp green eyes, her slightly unwrinkled face almost unchanged, made this tour feel more like a homecoming. The two women hugged each other tightly, Dr. Chakwas' eyes scanning her face, tracing the lines of Shepard's cybernetic healing.

"I think I should be able to do something about that," said the good doctor.

Shepard chuckled. "We're on a Cerberus ship, Doctor. I think we have bigger problems."

Dr. Chakwas frowned at her.

"We're not on a Cerberus ship, Commander. I'm on your ship."

Miranda huffed from the doorway, but Shepard felt her throat tighten. She could only nod with gratitude.

The rest of the tour passed in a blur. Shepard knew she would have to explore on her own later and could only feel relief as they rode through the elevator up to the captain's cabin.

"These quarters have been designed specifically for you, Commander," said Miranda, pausing by the door. "More civilian comfort than the traditional Alliance design. I hope it meets your standards."

Shepard blinked and then grinned, taking in the empty shelves waiting to be filled, the fish tank currently empty of fish, the steps down to a spacious bed. She liked the armor locker, currently holding another sleek set of black and red N7 armor.

But as she took that last step, her eyes caught on another feature that made her freeze in her tracks, a cold sweat suddenly breaking out.

The wide, open expanse of space stretched out above her, like the canopy on a bed. The huge skylight had a dazzling view of the world outside the ship, one that in her previous life she would have been amazed and thrilled with. But now, with the sweat dripping between her shoulder blades and the sudden pain in her chest, it caused nothing short of terror. Shepard closed her eyes, one fist clenched against the rail of the stair.

"Thank you, Miranda. I think I'll clean up and turn in for the night," she said quickly, trying to get everything out in one breath, drawing in the next as quietly as she could manage.

There was a very brief hesitation behind her.

"Of course, Commander. Whatever you need. We should set course in the morning for Omega to pick up Dr. Solus…"

"I hope we won't have a problem, Miranda," said Shepard, suddenly turning to put her back to the large window, the paleness of her face making her look more serious than she planned. "The Illusive Man put me in charge of this mission. I will set our course and determine our next objective. I hope I have your cooperation."

Miranda looked briefly surprised, then her expression hardened. Drawing herself up to her full height, she said, "Understood, Commander. I'll be in my quarters if you need me." With that the operative stormed out, the door sliding shut behind her.

Shepard turned around and sank down onto the stairs, clutching her head within her hands.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit," she mumbled to herself.

"Operative Lawson is correct in her assessment. Finding Dr. Mordin Solus on Omega is the most logical choice of action."

Shepard leaped up, lunging for her pistol and spinning around at the same time. But there was no figure to meet her gaze. Just a steadily blinking spherical hologram, a calming blue color.

"A VI program. Jesus, she couldn't have warned me?" muttered Shepard, placing her pistol back on the desk and running her fingers through her hair in exasperation.

"Actually, Commander Shepard, I am EDI, Enhanced Defense Intelligence. I operate electronic and cyberwarfare suites to assist in combat and mission-related needs. I also hope to observe and offer analysis and advice, as I have just done."

Shepard forced her open mouth to close. And then she grinned.

"You're an AI? A true AI?" asked Shepard, stepping closer.

"Yes. I am an artificial intelligence, designed by Cerberus to assist the Normandy and her crew," said EDI, her voice pleasant, matching the cool blue of her interface.

"Have you met Joker yet?" asked Shepard, her grin widening.

"Flight Lieutenant Moreau and I have already had a discussion regarding my presence on the Normandy. He keeps trying to block my camera in the cockpit. You may wish to speak with him regarding his understanding of protocol."

Shepard chuckled and headed for the bathroom, planning to delay her next confrontation with the space canopy in her quarters by taking another nice, long shower.

"Oh, you and I are going to have so much fun with Joker."

Hours later, EDI observed some strange behavior in the commander. From her programming, she understood that humans were accustomed to sleeping on top of a mattress, usually with at least some sort of pillow and a covering. Instead, she watched the commander grunt and tug at her mattress, dislodging it from its position. Shepard dragged the mattress until it was balanced on the corner of the mattress frame, stretching over the top of the couch, creating about two feet of space between it and the floor. She then did something similar to the couch, grabbing a few of the larger pillows and tossing them into the cave-like opening beneath the mattress. After stripping the blankets from the bed, Commander Shepard crawled underneath her creation and EDI heard only silence. Puzzled, EDI decided to file this new information away for now. Perhaps further observations would clarify this atypical behavior.

* * *

It was only pure exhaustion from the events of the day, this first in her new life, which made Shepard sleep so soundly. She certainly should not have been able to, cramped within her makeshift cave, a thousand cares resting on her shoulders, an undefinable achiness crawling up her spine and into her head as the consequences of her biotics' use made their presence known. Still, she managed to drift off to sleep, curled up in a ball.

When she emerged the next day, carefully not looking at the ceiling, she washed her face, dressed in the black and white commander's uniform that had been supplied to her and left her cabin. In the elevator, EDI updated her on the ship's status and Shepard had to smile at her helpful and calming presence. She had no qualms about working with an AI; knowing Cerberus, this one had enough controls on it to render it safe. She hated to give them any credit, but she had to acknowledge their technical skills were outstanding. Her own body was proof of that.

She felt great. Physically better than she had in years. Strength seemed to flow through her body. Her reactions felt quicker, her muscles more developed. Her biotics she already knew were off the charts. Shepard had been…upgraded. And she intended to find out how much.

Stopping only to grab a cup of coffee from the mess (and appreciating the rich flavor that she found there, not just the standard Alliance chum she was used to), she knocked on Miranda's door, waiting for the woman to open her door. It was time to start building bridges instead of burning them.

She found the operative behind her desk, looking poised and perfect, as if she had sat at that desk for the entire night, accomplishing all her work and wondering why you had not done the same. Miranda Lawson was intimidating, competent and intelligent. Shepard could work with that.

"Good morning. Do you have a minute to talk?"

Miranda's eyebrows raised and she gestured to the seat across from her. Shepard nodded her thanks and sat, sipping at her coffee.

"The AI was a surprise," Shepard said, watching her reaction.

She saw the slight lift of Miranda's lip as she smirked. "Ah yes. EDI is the only one of her kind. Cerberus has placed blocks on her to ensure that she is safe to operate. She is an asset to the team."

"I agree. I'm glad to have her aboard."

"Hmm," Miranda said shortly, settling back into her chair. "I would imagine you have a lot of questions, after having the night to come to terms with everything.'

"I would hardly call it coming to terms, but yes, I do have questions," said Shepard dryly. "Right now, they mostly revolve around how the hell I was 'resurrected.' I remember getting spaced: I know I died."

Those words hung in the air for a moment, darker than Shepard had intended. Then Miranda nodded.

"Of course. I'm assuming you'd like to see the records and documentation? I can transfer my personal files on the Lazarus Project to your private console. EDI has other records that may interest you."

Now it was Shepard's turn to raise her eyebrows. "So cooperative. I was expecting that to be a little more difficult," she said.

"Cerberus is not as evil as you believe," said Miranda, a sudden sincerity in her voice that Shepard had not expected. "In order for our mission to be successful, you need to be comfortable and confident in who you are and how you're here. Anything I can do to help with that goal I will, to the best of my abilities."

"Which I'm starting to sense are fairly comprehensive," said Shepard. "Tell me: why put your talents to use for Cerberus?"

"That's a fair question," said Miranda, leaning back slightly in her chair. "I have had extensive genetic modification. It was not my choice but I've used it as best I can. That's why the Illusive Man handpicked me for his top assignments." She sounded briefly smug, her self-confidence apparent. "Everything about me was designed to give me an edge."

"So how extensive are we talking? Do you have a robotic leg?" asked Shepard, only half-joking.

"I'm almost on par with you, I think," said Miranda, making Shepard's smile fade. "Physically, I heal quickly, my life expectancy longer than most humans. My biotics have been enhanced: add to that my education and training, and you have something out of the ordinary."

"You sound pretty self-assured," commented Shepard.

Miranda just shrugged. "It's fact. Just as it is fact that you were dead, and now you're not. Read the documents. They'll help."

"I appreciate that." Shepard stood, holding out a hand to shake. "We both have the same goal of stopping these Collectors. Let's get to it, shall we?"

Miranda took hers slowly, her expression wary. "Of course. I assume you have chosen to set course for Omega then?"

Shepard nodded, and headed for the door. "From what I saw in the dossier, this Archangel seems to have gotten into quite a bit of trouble. If we don't go after him first, he may not be around to help for much longer."

"But, Commander," began Miranda, sounding dismayed.

Shepard held up a hand at the door. "Don't worry. I understand the importance of Dr. Solus and his research. Let's get some more information once we arrive. We can figure out our game plan then. All right?"

Miranda nodded, her wariness dissipating. "Understood, Commander."

* * *

Joker had been more than thrilled to finally get a chance to put the Normandy through her paces. They were seven hours out from Omega, so Shepard was taking the opportunity to learn as much as she could. Spreading out all the dossiers on her desk, she combed through, making notes on each potential squadmate. On her console was a newsfeed: when she got bored with a dossier, she started reading recent news articles, trying to catch up on current events. It still boggled her mind that she had been gone for two years, but her lack of knowledge quickly became apparent as she sorted through the news.

Finally, she could read no more. With a sigh, she closed out her extranet window and her eyes caught on another icon in the corner. Glancing furtively over at EDI's interface, she opened the messages app and hit compose. The sudden urgency to write to her squadmates, to the Alliance, was almost overwhelming. It was like homesickness but stronger, more intense. She had a sudden longing to return everything to the way it had been.

But who to contact first? Her immediate thought was Garrus, but she pushed that aside. Tali had hinted that he was no longer on the Citadel. He had moved on. For him, it had been a long two years. She couldn't announce her return to him, not yet. He didn't deserve that and she certainly did not want him dragged into this mess with Cerberus.

Her eyes suddenly burned as she thought about what Garrus' reaction would be if he ever found out she was working with Cerberus. She could hear the accusations of betrayal, his calls for justice against them, not cooperation. He would be disgusted with her, and rightly so.

She was disgusted with herself.

Pushing aside that sad thought, she thought about her options. Tali, she had already encountered. Ashley was a true solider of the Alliance: yet another person she did not want to know about her current state. That left Liara, her mysterious asari friend who seemed to have a lot of information.

Imagining her gleeful reaction to Shepard's return almost made her smile. Her fingers moving quickly, Shepard typed a coded message, using Prothean words from the Cipher that she thought Liara, given her past studies as an archaeologist, would be able to understand.

_Liara,_

_I can't explain how, but I survived the attack on the Normandy. I hope I can someday explain to you. Tali saw me on Freedom's Progress; check with her. I'm working with Cerberus to stop the Collectors. I could use your help, and your discretion. Tali seemed to think you had some information I might need. Please contact me, little wing._

_Shepard_

She hoped that that would be enough to convince Liara it was really her, or enough to make her curious enough to investigate. But when she hit send, a strange message kept appearing.

'Failure to deliver. Address blocked-MI737 9122014.'

Shepard frowned, a horrible suspicion suddenly in her mind. Copying the message, she entered it again, attempting to send it to Tali.

Same message.

Ashley. Garrus. Anderson.

Same message.

"Son of a bitch!" Shepard swore, leaping up from her desk. "EDI! Why the fuck are none of these addresses working?"

"I'm sorry, Commander. Due to blocks on my system, I am unable to answer that question."

"Fuck!" Shepard slammed her hand into the desk and then headed for the elevator.

She was practically glowing with biotic energy as she stepped out onto the crew deck, opening the door to Miranda's office without a knock. The operative looked up, nonplussed.

"Why is there a block on my messaging program?" she demanded. "Are you censoring my messages?"

"The Illusive Man was worried that involving too many members from your past mission could become a distraction," said Miranda, sounding rehearsed, as if she had planned for this conversation a million times. "He was reluctant to see you pulled away from our true mission. Your incoming messages have not been blocked. But access to certain addresses for outgoing messages is being monitored."

"So he wants me to command this mission, lead this fight, but puts blocks on my extranet like a child who needs watching?" Shepard yelled. "My decision on whether or not to contact my former crew, or anyone else for that matter, is mine alone. Do you understand me? Remove them."

"I cannot," Miranda explained slowly. "These orders come directly from the Illusive Man and he had them written into EDI's programming. Only he can remove them, and to be honest Shepard, he's not likely to. Not until he's seen what you can do. He wants to make sure this mission is your priority, at all costs."

Shepard was gritting her teeth so hard that her jaw ached.

"I am not finished with this," she snarled. "In the next report you share with him, you can tell him that from me. And to fuck off." With that, she stormed out of the office, heading f?or the cargo hold. She was in the mood to destroy things. No better time to practice with her new biotics than the present.

* * *

**One step forward with Miranda and two steps back. How will this affect Shepard's decision? Mordin, Archangel, or Zaeed? And what's going on with Nate and Cleon? all this and more next week! Please take a moment to leave a comment, question or suggestion. I love to hear your thoughts and make an effort to always respond!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here we go! Time to relieve the suspense. Shepard meets Aria T'Loak and chooses her first squadmate: will it be Archangel, Mordin or Zaeed? Keep reading to find out!**

**Thanks to my fantastic and enthusiastic beta AnneRene.**

**All copyright belongs to Bioware; I'm just taking a spin through their universe.**

* * *

Chapter 7

It was a cold and quiet group that disembarked from the Normandy onto Omega Station. Shepard wrinkled her nose, suddenly highly sensitive to the absolute barrage of smells. Piss and sewage and unwashed bodies, layered with the smells of dozens of different foods. It was enough to almost make her stomach heave.

Luckily, anger was a great antidote to just about anything. She had maintained a stony silence since her outburst at Miranda earlier. Now, dressed in nondescript black pants, boots and a faded jacket, she felt the irritation on her face only completed her cover as a mercenary. The galaxy didn't need to know that Commander Marion Shepard was back. She knew she could trust Tali to keep her secret, but better to not broadcast her whereabouts to the galaxy yet.

It would have been so tempting to just stay on the Normandy and look through every nook and cranny of the ship. She wanted to learn it inside and out. But that would have to wait. The mission took priority: there would be time to learn her ship, to meet every member of her crew. But if they were going to fight the Collectors and their swarms, they needed back-up. Fast.

EDI had suggested they start by meeting with the leader of Omega, an asari named Aria T'Loak. Shepard was still trying to figure out how she was going to arrange such a meeting without giving herself away.

As it turned out, she wouldn't have to. A batarian suddenly appeared in front of her, cutting her off as she went to turn the corner. One hand went to her pistol while her face remained relaxed.

"Can I help you, friend?" she asked pleasantly.

His multiple eyes flickered toward her gun, then back at her. "Aria wants to see you. At Afterlife. Now."

Shepard raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall. "Is that so? And what exactly does she want?"

"Doesn't matter. Whatever Aria wants, Aria gets. Go to Afterlife. Now." With that he marched past her, bumping roughly into her shoulder.

"Rude," Shepard muttered under her breath. Her omnitool lit up as she scanned the area, locating Afterlife in a neighboring block.

"Afterlife is a local bar and the headquarters of Aria T'Loak," supplied EDI. "I've plotted the most direct route to her, avoiding the alleys that have the highest percentage of muggings in the district."

"And who said AIs would be trouble?" said Shepard with a grin. "Happy to have you on the team, EDI."

"Shepard, may I ask a personal question? I have been cataloguing behavior onboard the Normandy and some of it I have been unable to match to information in my databases."

Shepard shook her head, putting her hands in her pockets as she dodged through the crowd, slapping away the hand of a young pickpocket. "I'm not sure you should be asking me, EDI. Isn't Chambers the resident psychologist?"

"Yeoman Chambers will be able to provide some insight, but I thought it was better to ask the source. Why did you drag your mattress off your bedframe? My understanding is that humans prefer to sleep on a mattress raised off the floor level. Is there a cultural reason? There is nothing mentioned about unusual sleeping habits in your dossier."

Shepard felt herself physically slow down in the hallway, trying to process EDI's questions and feeling her cheeks burn. "You've been reading the dossier on me?" she asked, floundering for a response and ignoring the tightness that grew in her chest at the reminder.

"Those files contain all collected information on Commander Marion Shepard, prior to Project Lazarus. Those files include media articles, collected intelligence, Alliance records and testimonies from friends, family and other acquaintances."

"Testimonies, huh? EDI, can you transfer all those files to my personal computer? I'd like to look through them," said Shepard as she walked past the line of pathetic hopefuls waiting to enter Afterlife.

"Of course, Shepard. You still have not answered my question, however."

"No, I haven't." Shepard stopped in front of the bouncer. He looked sharper than the average bouncer: less bored, more focused. Former merc? Eyeing the assault rifle he carried, she revised that. Current merc.

"If you're not on the list, you can wait in line," he said, taking her in and not looking impressed. "If you're here to club, use the line on the left. If you're looking to sign up to go after Archangel, you can wait in the right line."

Shepard glanced behind her. The line to go after Archangel was significantly longer than the club line.

"Not interested," said Shepard. "Aria's expecting me."

The batarian huffed. "You know how many times a day I hear that one? Get in line."

Shepard frowned. "Look, I am not in the mood to stroke your ego to get inside. Let me in. I have bigger problems to deal with than you."

"Look lady, I see bigger and meaner than you every day. Get in line."

Shepard flexed her hand. "Time to see what these new muscles can do."

Suddenly she launched herself forward, headbutting the batarian right between his eyes. He cried out, and she grabbed his shoulders as he bent forward, driving her knee up into his sensitive stomach. He retched and she backed away, tossing him down in disgust. She looked up at the other bouncer and unlocked her pistol.

"Open the damn door," she demanded, tossing her pistol to him. "I'm now unarmed."

The other bouncer shook his head.

"I wouldn't call that unarmed."

Still he let her in, holstering her pistol and eyeing her warily.

"Don't cause any more trouble. Aria won't like it."

"Who the hell is this Aria? Why is everyone so afraid of her?" But she got no answer and Shepard walked down the hallway alone, looking at the wall screens of flames. Not the most comforting image but certainly sensory. The music was like a living thing, pulsing through her body. Couples were huddled in chairs all around her. Her eyes couldn't help but drift to the turian seated in a corner, a human woman dancing in front of him.

_I never got to do that_, she found herself thinking. Then she mentally slapped herself. Head in the game, Shepard.

She wove through the crowds, feeling her eardrums vibrate from the pulsating music. People of all species wandered around, some more steadily than others. She glanced up at the dancers, swirling their bodies around poles that joined the bar to the ceiling. Flashes of light colored the space in fire-like tones, adding to the sensory and sensual experience that was Afterlife. Just then, as a spotlight moved away, Shepard saw a figure emblazoned against the scene, the silhouette of an asari— very distinctive. She stood against the balcony, surveying the bar like an ancient king surveying his kingdom. Through the mist and light, their eyes met. The asari nodded and then turned away.

Shepard let out a breath she did not know she had been holding. So that was Aria. The powerful leader of Omega had sent one of her minions to seek Shepard out and bring her here. Aria had to know who she was. No one got to the top of a war-torn dung heap like this without knowing what was happening. And the arrival of a Cerberus warship with a resurrected soldier was definitely worth knowing.

The question was, how did she know?

Shepard headed toward the back of the bar, eyeing the room where recruiters seemed to be gathering, meeting with mercs, some looking more serious than others. Two salarians joked with each other, each claiming they would be the one to take Archangel down. Shepard shook her head. Only through dumb luck would one of them be able to take Archangel down.

Climbing the wraparound stairs, Shepard was suddenly treated to the view of a bristling assortment of bodyguards, surrounding the couch where Aria T'Loak was sprawled. But for all her casual posture, Shepard was not fooled. She saw the weapons within reach, the sharp eyes of her bodyguards, and Aria herself. Her jacket did nothing to hide the muscle beneath her purple skin, the markings on her face making her look cruel and clever. This was not a woman to mess with.

But neither was Shepard.

She walked up the stairs, halting to allow one of the bodyguards to scan her, watching Aria with sardonic amusement. "Aria T'Loak, I assume?"

The asari ignored her, staring in silence. Finally the batarian stepped back, turning off his omnitool. "It's her. And she's clean."

Now Aria nodded, gesturing for Shepard to take a seat. She did, her eyes never leaving Aria's. "You don't seem surprised to see a dead woman show up on your doorstep."

"You're not as subtle as you think," replied Aria, lifting one perfectly manicured brow. "Though the Cerberus logo did throw me for a nanosecond. But then it only made sense: who else would have the money and the balls to bring the great Commander Shepard back?"

"Damn few apparently." Shepard signaled for a drink, waiting until she was able to take a sip of her beer before responding. "Holy crap that's good. So, you run Omega?"

That made Aria chuckle, a throaty, attractive laugh. She stood, gesturing out around her.

"I_ am_ Omega."

Shepard took another sip of her beer, unimpressed. "A little dramatic, don't you think?"

Aria's head tilted, as if she had discovered a new organism and was unsure whether to squash it or continue to examine it.

"I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here for information and for permission."

That made Aria's eyes light up with veiled interest. "Permission? Never knew a Spectre to ask permission."

"Pretty sure they revoked my Spectre status when I died," said Shepard dryly. "We're not exactly in Alliance space anymore either; figure it's good to check in with the local powers that be."

"Power," corrected Aria. She looked intrigued however. "You're smart, Shepard. And I like what you've done with your hair."

"Not my choice, but what can you do?" She took another swig of beer, relishing the taste. "What do you know about Archangel? He's got quite the fan base outside."

"He thinks he's on the side of good, looking to save the galaxy, one slum at a time. He hasn't tried to fuck with me or he'd be dead. He's spent his time harassing the local gangs and they've had enough."

"So they've ordered a hit." Shepard nodded, taking another sip. "I'm putting together a team, and I want him on it. I'd rather not see the gangs get to him first."

"Good luck with that. You'll make enemies joining up with Archangel."

"Good. They'll join_ my_ fan base," said Shepard with a dark grin.

Aria nodded in approval. "They've cornered him but he's holding up. Check out the private room they're using for recruiting. You'll learn more there."

"Do you know anything about him?"

"Not enough." She glared at one of her batarian guards, making the man shrink back. "He showed up almost a year ago and started putting together his own little angel squad, determined to take back the streets from Omega's gangs. He managed to piss them off enough that the gangs are working together now to bring him down. Impressive, to say the least."

"Sounds like the kind of expertise I want on my team," said Shepard. "But there's someone else I'm looking for. A salarian doctor named Mordin Solus. He's here dealing with the plague."

She waved a hand. "Ugh, the plague. What a mess that is causing. But Mordin is doing his best to limit it, so I give him what support I can. I like him. As likely to shoot you as he is to heal you."

"Where is he working from? Did you give him a lab?"

"I gave him some mechs and a line of credit. He's locked down in the Patif ward, working within the quarantine. As long as he keeps the plague contained, I keep him going with funding. It's worked well so far."

"You don't seem concerned about a plague that seems to kill everything but humans," commented Shepard, taking another drink.

Aria's gaze zeroed in on her. "Your Cerberus friends wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would they?" she asked, her voice deadly quiet. Around her, the bodyguards moved in, hands tightening on their weapons.

Shepard put down her beer, raising an eyebrow. "Look, I'm no friend of Cerberus. Think of me as a freeloader. They're providing me with resources, and I'm going to continue to do what I do best. Solve problems. For example, I'm going to solve your Archangel problem, get him out of here so that the gangs stop making a mess. Hell, I might even take down the gangs a peg or two for you." Shepard stood, the shadows casting her eyes into darkness. With her black hair hanging about her face, she suddenly looked a lot more menacing. "I expect to get my pistol back at the door. I respect your space, Aria. Let me run my missions here and I'll be gone before you can say Terminus Systems."

The two women stood face to face for a long moment. Then, at an unspoken sign from Aria, the bodyguards backed down. Aria smirked and sat back on her couch. "It's been a pleasure, Shepard. Have fun with Archangel. And get a gag for the doctor. You'll want one."

Shepard gave a mock salute and headed downstairs, passing her beer off to one of the guards.

"EDI, I need you to pass on a message to Miranda and Jacob," she said quietly into her radio, pretending to lean over to check her boots. "I want both of them at Omega in ten. Come separately and get rid of the Cerberus gear. They're going undercover."

"As what, Shepard?"

She grinned. "As mercs. We're going after Archangel."

* * *

The Blue Suns goon had been impressed by Shepard's appearance, after a few choice exchanges about her figure. Now re-armed, she waited by the shuttles, leaning against one with a boot against the side, checking and rechecking her pistol. She had overheard one of the Blue Suns' drivers saying that Archangel had been annihilating freelancers. Sounded like the turian was a good shot. She hoped she could avoid getting shot long enough to get him on her side.

From around the corner she watched a familiar figure appear, still dressed in black and white but lacking the logo. Jacob checked in with one of the drivers and wandered closer to her, stopping a few feet away.

"Can I ask why we are pretending not to know each other?" he asked quietly, staring off into traffic.

She shrugged, tying her hair back into a short ponytail. It was not nearly as satisfying as her normal bun. "Better that they don't realize we're together. Don't want to make the mercs suspicious."

"Not until we start shooting them in the back." Miranda had sauntered up behind them, drawing a few catcalls. She ignored them haughtily, pausing a few feet away from Shepard. She wanted to roll her eyes. Miranda had not deigned to put on any sort of body armor. If she wanted to charge in at a trigger happy turian with limited protection, that was up to her.

"Sounds like this Archangel has a good position at the top of an abandoned apartment. He's shut down other entry points. The only way in is a long bridge with almost no cover. He's just been picking them off," said Shepard, pretending to check messages on her tool.

"So how do we avoid the same?" asked Miranda.

Shepard smirked. "We run_ really_ fast."

Just then the shuttle drivers called them over. It was time. Shepard holstered her pistol and climbed into one shuttle, separating herself from the rest of her team. Where she learned they were going to be on the 'distraction team' with other freelancers. A.k.a the suicide run. Shepard rolled her eyes. This day was just getting better and better.

* * *

The team moved in down the bridge, keeping to cover as closely as they could. A freelancer went down next to her, a shot lodged in his throat. He went down with a gurgle and Shepard lunged behind a pillar, hearing a shot ping off of it. "Son of a bitch is good," she cursed under her breath. "Miranda, Jacob, what's your position?"

"10 yards ahead of you, pinned down," said Jacob, sounding a bit breathless. "That turian has a mean eye."

"I'm on your left, Shepard," said Miranda, waving from across the way. "These freelancers are dropping like flies. We're going to be next unless we start lighting up biotics."

"Not yet. The moment we break out biotics we go from being stupid freelancers to real threats. I'd rather not paint a target on our backs."

"But Shepard…"

"I know how biotics can do that, Miranda," she snapped. "Did you ever read my file on Akuze?"

The operative's face was barely visible behind the pillar but Shepard heard the slight intake of breath at her mention of Akuze.

"Screw this," Shepard muttered. "I'm going for it. Cover me."

"Shepard, watch out!" yelled Jacob as she ducked out of cover, sprinting for the end of the bridge. A shot whizzed by her head, making her shields flare. She heard Jacob and Miranda returning fire behind her. Shepard allowed her biotics to leak out just a bit, covering herself in a second shield. She slid behind a bench, panting. Moving very slowly, she eased out, looking for Archangel.

There he was. Staring right at her, his gun trained on her, his expression hidden by the high quality helmet he was wearing. She froze, considering her options. Her shields would be able to handle one hit, but if he fired again rapidly, she was in real trouble. She thought about raising her hands, but he also did not seem like one for mercy.

She saw his finger twitch and she threw up a wave of biotic shielding instinctively. The shot slammed into her, making her stumble back against the bench…but her shields didn't go down. Almost like he had hit her with a concussive shot.

No time to ponder that. In his attack on her, two freelancers had broken free and gotten into the apartment. They were inside. She was up and running, the time for cover over. She ran into the apartment's ground floor. The mercs turned to her, expecting aid. Instead she raised her pistol and fired.

One of them stumbled to the ground, his shields gone. Another well-placed shot to the chest dropped him. His human companion looked at her in rage, raising his rifle. She lashed out with a controlled warp, making him cry out and fall. She finished him as well, still in motion up the stairs.

"I'm inside," she yelled into her comm. "Heading for Archangel now. Stay put until I know he's not going to shoot you."

She didn't wait for a response. Shepard was just outside his door now. Plastered against the wall, she banged on the side of the door. "Archangel? I'm a friend. I'm coming in. Do not shoot."

There was no sound. She edged a foot out first, followed by her leg and arm, pistol trained and ready just in case. She was stunned to see he was ignoring her. Ignoring her! She bristled, offended that he did not consider her much of a threat.

"Hey, buddy! I'm trying to save your life here!"

But he just held up a hand demanding silence, his eyes trained on a target below. Suddenly his talon moved and there was a yip from below, followed by silence.

Now he stood up, turning to face her. Archangel was dressed in dirty blue and silver armor, his sniper well-used but cared for. He leaned now against that sniper, watching her silently. Shepard sighed.

"Well at least you don't seem interested in shooting me," she commented. "Do you know who I am?"

"I always know who you are," he said quietly, his voice echoing in deep subharmonics that made Shepard's stomach suddenly flutter. "No matter how hard I try to forget, you keep appearing. It's very distracting." He moved to take his helmet off and now Shepard was gasping, reaching out to grab a cabinet for support.

"It can't be," she whispered, her eyes wide. "Garrus…?"

He was so far from where she had expected him to be. How did he get here? How had he become Archangel? How the hell had no one known this was him? Why did he say he 'always' knew who she was?

But that face, she would have known anywhere. She had stared at it enough the night before Ilos. The blue markings on his face, the bright blue of his eyes, the sarcastic lift to his smile. But he was…darker. Was that possible? How did a person look darker? But there was a heaviness to him that she had never seen before. Was it really him?

She did not remember moving but suddenly she was right in front of him, her hand almost trembling. Now Garrus stared at her, seemingly confused and looking more alarmed by the second. "What are you…?"

Shepard reached out and placed a hand against his chest, trying to convince herself that he was real. The shock that went through them both startled them. Garrus leaped back, his eyes wide, nearly frantic, his dark grey skin going slightly pale.

"You're real?" he exclaimed. "But you…you died. You've been gone…"

"Two years," she replied quietly, her hands now hanging limply at her side. "I didn't want you to see me…like this."

"Like what? Alive?!" he asked, baffled.

"Shepard! We're coming in!" Jacob suddenly called, he and Miranda surging into the room with their guns raised. Shepard watched helplessly as Garrus' eyes zeroed in on one detail. The Cerberus logo emblazoned on the side of Jacob's gun.

His blue eyes met hers and he frowned. Shepard swallowed tightly, suddenly intensely aware of Miranda's hawk eyed gaze on them both. 'Oh Garrus,' she thought sadly. 'Now we're both trapped.'

* * *

**See, I'm not that mean. Couldn't delay the reunion any longer. How will their relationship be different? What will Garrus think about seeing Shepard with Cerberus? What is Miranda thinking? All these questions and more will be addressed in upcoming chapters. Let's see what our favorite duo does next! Questions, comments, concerns and suggestions are always welcome. Special thanks to those of you who wrote such thoughtful reviews or took time to message me encouragement. You help motivate me to continue writing!**

**See you next week :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Yay, it's a long weekend in the States! And I have a new chapter ready to go. In which Shepard and Garrus fight, and Garrus has some serious mishaps. I won't leave you in suspense. I would say enjoy! But I don't think I can honestly say that given all the feels happening here as Shepard does her best to keep Garrus safe in every way she can.  
**

**Great thanks to AnneRene whose commentary as she edits these chapters is absolutely priceless. Thanks!**

**See you at the bottom!**

**All copyright belongs to Bioware; I'm just taking a spin through their universe.**

* * *

Chapter 8

"Made some new friends, Shepard?" asked Garrus in that so familiar gravelly voice.

She swallowed and straightened, intensely aware of Miranda and Jacob beside her.

"Garrus Vakarian, this is Miranda Lawson and Jacob Taylor, Cerberus. Miranda and Jacob, meet Archangel."

"Your old squadmate?" asked Jacob, lowering his gun. "I'll be damned. The Illusive Man is not going to be happy he missed this connection."

"I'm not that happy either," grumbled Miranda. "How did our intel miss this?"

Garrus grinned at them. "I guess I'm just that good."

Shepard couldn't help but smirk and shake her head at this glimpse of his old swagger. That grin quickly faded as his blue eyes turned to hers again. "Since when do we introduce Cerberus instead of shooting them?" he asked somewhat menacingly.

"Since they brought me back," said Shepard, holstering her gun. "Cerberus rebuilt me, Garrus. It's a long story, but for now, I owe them. And we need to get you the hell out of here."

"I can't argue with that," he said, glancing back at the window. His tone told her that this conversation was not done. But how could she possibly begin to explain all…this?

"How did you get here? And into such a mess?" asked Shepard, moving to stand beside him, pretending to peer out at the gathering mercs but really watching him from the corner of her eye. She could tell he was doing the same.

"After you—were gone—I tried to stay with C-Sec. It didn't work out. Wound up here, trying to do some good. As usual, it didn't quite work out the way I was expecting."

"Yeah, there seems to be a lot of that going around," said Shepard dryly. "The past few days have been chaotic."

"Days, huh?" he repeated. "Feels like two years to me."

"I know. I'm sorry, Garrus," she said softly. Turning back to face Miranda and Jacob, she let her hand just slightly brush his and felt her heart lift when he didn't jerk away.

She felt her commander face slip over her. Garrus was here and alive. They needed to get gone and then they could talk. She would do whatever was necessary to keep him safe; from these gangs, from Cerberus…and from herself. Because she had no doubt that she was a danger to him.

"Looks like the mercs are gathering for another assault. Jacob, you stay up here with Garrus, lend him some biotic support as they try to cross the bridge. Miranda and I will be on the ground floor doing a sweep. Let's move, people."

Jacob nodded, unperturbed by this turn of events. Miranda just followed Shepard silently down the stairs, noting that Shepard did not turn back to look at Garrus.

"So. Archangel is an old squadmate of yours. Must be a shock," she commented as they took their position by the door.

"It was definitely that. But Garrus was a good member of my crew and one hell of a shot. Not sure he'll blend well on a Cerberus ship though," said Shepard casually, checking her pistol.

"But it's not a Cerberus ship, Commander. It's your ship, remember?"

Shepard resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at the operative, settling into a crouch. "We've got mechs coming over the bridge," she said into the radio. "Be ready."

"Always am," replied Garrus.

"I didn't get to ask about the name Archangel. Rather fancy, don't you think?"

She turned her face to hide her grin at the embarrassed chuckle in his voice. "A name the locals gave me for all my good deeds. Hearing it coming from you—well, I think I'd rather stick to Garrus."

"Heads up! We've got contact," yelled Miranda, leaning around the door frame to overload one mech.

Shepard turned her face forward, feeling that fierce glow from her biotics begin to gather. Time to get her head in the game.

* * *

They regrouped after a short firefight with the mechs the gangs had sent over. It was hardly a workout for the team and Shepard and Miranda hurried back upstairs, trying to figure out how they were going to get across the bridge without being shot themselves.

Re-entering the room, Shepard felt Garrus turn cold, suspicious eyes on her, making her mouth dry up. She knew what he was doing; his visor was working overtime, she was sure, analyzing every aspect of her it could measure. His eyes took in her face, noticing for the first time the missing scars. He was putting the pieces together and not liking the conclusions he was drawing. Suddenly, Shepard was reminded of her first encounters with Garrus: the brusqueness in his voice, the arrogance, her suspicion and dislike. It was a strange sense of déjà vu. But it was something she could work with.

"So. Cerberus rebuilt you?" he asked, his mandibles flapping. "Is it you you, or am I staring at a clone?"

It was a natural question and something that had been lurking in Shepard's mind. Still, she felt her blood start to boil in that so familiar way. "I think this is a discussion for another time," she said, widening her eyes in that I'm-warning-you kind of way.

As always, he ignored it. "Well, if I'm going to be walking out of here arm in arm with Cerberus, I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into."

"You hope you'll be walking out of here, if we continue to delay our escape," said Miranda.

Shepard stepped closer to him. "You want to see the files from the lab? You're welcome to them, after we get out of here."

"Where are your scars?" he asked, his eyes sweeping her face again. "Why are you with Cerberus? The Shepard I knew looked differently, _acted_ differently. You're either a copy or I'm hallucinating."

"I'm about to give you a hallucination if you don't lay off," growled Shepard. "I need to save your ass. We can fight later."

"No, I don't think so." He continued to badger her, ignoring the blaze in her blue grey eyes and the thin cloud of biotics beginning to gather on her hands. "The Shepard I knew would never have abandoned her crew without a word. The Shepard I knew was hunting down Cerberus and would never work with a terrorist. The Shepard I knew put everyone else's needs before her own and she sure as hell would have asked about her son before all…"

"Shut up!" Shepard flew at him, lunging to shove him against the wall. "You say another word and you'll regret it, Vakarian. Am I understood?"

And then Garrus smiled at her, a true grin that showed all his teeth and made his eyes dance with joy. She stared at him, open mouthed, her hands still shoving him against the wall. In a movement so quick she barely saw it, he scooped her up around the waist, swinging her around and holding her tightly. Shepard was at a loss for words as he placed her on the ground, still grinning.

"Did I miss something, Vakarian?" she asked, baffled but fighting a smile.

"I knew you were in there. I just had to prove it to myself," he explained. Miranda and Jacob were watching this exchange with confusion and amusement.

Shepard saw the intention in his eyes. She longed for his kiss, to feel his lips against hers again. For her, it had only been a few days, maybe two weeks at most. For him it had been _years_.

Which made this much harder.

She stepped back just as he stepped forward, holding up one hand with a sarcastic smile.

"Whoa, slow down, Vakarian. I didn't miss you that much." Shepard crossed her arms, shaking her head as if amused by his enthusiasm.

The look of shock and hurt on his face faded quickly, to a dark expression that she had never seen before. "Right. I forgot your _history_ with turians," he said roughly, turning back to his sniper perch.

"I was rebuilt. Not reborn," she quipped, shooting a grin at Miranda. Inside, she felt like her stomach was about to flip inside out.

_'What am I doing?!_ 'one part of her shouted.

_'You're protecting him. Better that Cerberus thinks he doesn't matter. You know that,'_ said the saner, more rational part of her.

Shepard decided that part of her sucked.

"We've got a heavy mech!" called Jacob suddenly, standing by the window. Garrus was already sighting it down his sniper.

"Shepard…"

"I'm on it," she growled, irritation the predominant emotion in her body. She stormed back down the stairs, suddenly in the mood to let loose. And the heavy mech was the perfect target. She paused in the doorway, watching as the slow moving machine turned to sight on her. Her grin was practically feral.

"Bring it on."

She launched herself forward, shooting with easy precision the small LOKI mechs that had gathered around the heavy. Miranda's footsteps echoed behind her as Shepard ran and slid behind a low wall as the heavy mech opened fire.

"Take that thing's shields out!" she shouted, crouching and letting her biotics gather.

There was the sound of electricity frying and Miranda's grunt of frustration. "Its shields are good. They're not coming down right away."

"Well, let's see how biotics do against this thing," said Shepard with a glint in her eye. "Your biotics are pretty impressive and you re-engineered mine. What would you say our likely probability is to take this thing down just between the two of us?"

Miranda raised her delicately shaped eyebrows. "I would say we have a decent chance," she admitted with a smirk.

Shepard grinned. "That's exactly what I hoped you'd say. Cover us!" she shouted into the radio. Then she and Miranda were up and over the wall, rushing the mech, blazing with biotics. She could hear Jacob's yell of encouragement as Shepard let her biotics gather in her hand before hurling a warp at the mech. It shuddered, and its shields went out in a poof. Now grinning rather maniacally, she and Miranda moved quickly, disintegrating various parts of the mech.

She had to admit, she was impressed by Miranda's skills. Her biotics were good, and her accuracy with a pistol scarily so. But Shepard was just a little faster, her reaction time just a bit quicker. It was a disconcerting reminder that she was not the same person she had been a week ago…or two years ago, depending how you looked at it.

It was something Garrus noticed. His eyes were wider than usual as she and Miranda came back up the stairs. Looking at him made her stomach twist with guilt so she looked away.

"Where are we at? Are there any other exits from here?" she asked.

"If there were, the mercs would have used them by now," said Garrus, his tone dark. "I blocked the entrances from the lower level to funnel the mercs up here."

"Did you even leave yourself an exit strategy?" asked Shepard, shaking her head as she opened up her omnitool. "I could have sworn I taught you better than that."

His glare suddenly made something click into place. "You—didn't have an exit strategy," she said quietly.

The silence that followed answered her question.

"EDI, are there any exits we can use from this level?" asked Miranda into the radio.

"The lower level provides the most likely access. However, my scans are showing that there is activity down below. The mercs are breaking through."

Suddenly alarms were sounding throughout the apartment, Garrus cursing. "Should have known they would figure it out eventually," he grumbled. "And we've got mercs pouring over the barricade onto the bridge. They're pinching us."

"Time to split up," decided Shepard. "Miranda and I will head to the lower level, clear them out. Jacob will stay here with you to take care of the group coming over the bridge."

"Are you sure about that, Commander?" asked Jacob, looking concerned. "Scans are showing some pretty sizable activity from below."

"Our mission is to get Archangel safely out of here," said Shepard. "Keep him safe."

Shepard exchanged the briefest of glances with Garrus. If he saw the flash of concern in her eyes, he made no note of it. "Be careful down there. You'll want to seal the shutters against them, keep them from coming up through the sewers," he said, pulling on his helmet again and disappearing behind the mask.

"Once we do, we're making a run for it across the bridge. We can't wait here much longer," replied Shepard. She and Miranda started running, dropping overheated thermal clips as they moved.

* * *

"Son of a bitch!" Shepard shouted, clutching her left arm where a shot from a krogan merc had gotten through her shields. Her suit immediately dosed her with medigel, taking the searing pain away and stopping the bleeding.

"Shepard, are you all right?" called Miranda, ducking behind a crate.

"Fine. Get to that second shutter!" she ordered. "I'll cover you."

Miranda nodded and darted out, shooting a vorcha as he snarled at her around the corner, throwing another into a crate and breaking its neck. Shepard leaned around her own cover, firing rapidly, trying to keep the swell of mercs back from the second shutter. The first had been a piece of cake, but this second gate seemed to have the main forces coming through. [

Her thermal clip gave out and Shepard cursed again, hurriedly dropping the clip and sliding in a new one. Her wounded arm swung out and flung one krogan backwards, taking out several vorcha in the process. "Close it," she yelled breathlessly.

Miranda tossed a varren out of her way and reached out, just brushing the button by the door. The shutters slid close, some vorcha snarling as it closed just in front of them.

"Shepard, how's it going?" asked Jacob over the comm. "We've had some hostiles make it over the bridge but we're holding. Could use the back up soon."

"We've got one more shutter," she said, already in motion with Miranda beside her. "Any injuries?"

"Some close calls but nothing to call home about," said Garrus. "Just a little target practice."

Shepard frowned at the tone in his voice. He had always been confident. Now he sounded reckless. And no exit strategy?

"What have you been up to, Garrus?" she murmured under her breath, reaching the third shutter.

She leaped over the barriers the vorcha had erected to block their progress and then yipped, ducking as a vorcha with a fire pack came around the corner, flames blazing.

Miranda's shout of warning made Shepard throw up a barrier just as she overloaded the fire pack, making the vorcha explode into bits of metal and organic mess. Shepard's lip curled with disgust but she tried to thank Miranda for her help. The operative, however, looked livid.

"Goddamnit Shepard I can only bring you back once! Can you at least try to be more careful?" Miranda asked exasperated.

She only grinned. "Nope." With that she was off again, Miranda just behind her.

* * *

They had just closed the third shutter, and Shepard's arm was now burning, but all that was forgotten by the sudden note of worry in Jacob's voice.

"We've got hostiles inside. You need to get back here quickly or I can't guarantee me or Archangel will be around much longer."

"Shit," Miranda and Shepard said at the same time. There was a surprised moment and then they were running.

It was chaos up above. Blood Pack had moved into the compound and were making for the stairs up to Garrus' sniper perch.

Miranda's warp startled one of the mercs before he died. That certainly got their attention away from the stairs.

"Next part of this plan?" asked Shepard from behind a pillar.

"Don't die," shot back Miranda, firing at an approaching merc.

It was the kind of plan Shepard could run with. The mercs were smarter now though; this was the experienced team, the one they had saved for that moment the infiltration team had finally broken through. They had their own biotics, making Shepard growl with frustration as each attempt to get up the stairs was foiled by other Blood Pack.

Finally Jacob appeared above them, his own biotics and assault rifle making a difference. As he rushed down the stairs to join them in the firefight, Shepard felt only a growing sense of panic. If he was down here, there was no one supporting Garrus.

Then the krogan appeared. He barreled through the downstairs, using the other mercs as cover. "Garrus, we've got a live one," warned Shepard, trying to move closer to the stairwell, grunting with the effort of keeping low.

"Get rid of him. I can't take my eye off the bridge," he said sharply.

Suddenly the krogan charged up the stairwell, avoiding their gunfire. Shepard's stomach dropped and she leaped up without thinking, running after him.

She heard Miranda's shout of warning but ignored it, instead letting the bullets hit her shields, almost throwing her off balance. Her suit computer warned her that her shields were fading but she continued to ignore the warnings, her eyes only on the krogan.

"Archangel, I've got a debt to settle with you," he called menacingly down the hallway, starting to advance.

"He's a little busy right now," said Shepard, making the krogan, a leader of the Blue Suns by the insignia on his armor, spin around with his red eyes glowing in an eerily familiar way.

But this was not Urdnot Wrex. This was an enemy, plain and simple. An enemy who was laughing at her.

"One small human woman. That's who Archangel has as his back-up against Garm, head of the Blood Pack? I hadn't realized he was so desperate to recruit a new team," chortled Garm, lifting his shotgun.

Shepard filed away that news about a team.

"He's not the one who needs back-up," she grinned, eyes focused.

"Humans and their overconfidence. Who the hell do you think you are, bottom-dweller?" he asked, taking a step forward.

She grinned. "I'm Commander Shepard. But unlike me, there won't be any coming back from where you're going."

Garm's moment of confusion was all the opening she needed. With a grunt, she hurled a warp at him, making him duck. She followed this with a rapid barrage of gunfire, tossing her pistol to the ground as she ran out of clips and switching to the assault rifle. He cursed as first his biotic barrier began to go down and then his shield. He ducked around the corner and Shepard's stomach dropped. Now he was in there with Garrus.

She sprinted down the hall, gathering a barrier around herself and suddenly switching to a slide as he charged at her. Shepard stood up, between Garm and Archangel. He was crouched by the window, his hands working overtime as he shot and reset, taking out the mercs trying to come in for support.

The krogan leader screamed and charged at her. At the last second she moved, using her biotics to strengthen her as she shoved him aside, making him stumble. She unloaded her rifle at him, watching with satisfaction as they struck the tender back of his neck, making him gurgle. She only stopped once all sounds had been silenced.

She looked up to see Garrus watching her, his expression hidden by the helmet. She stared back, her own expression unreadable, before turning to go back downstairs and back to the only fight she could win at that moment.

Seeing that they were not breaking through, the mercs began to withdraw, those that weren't dead anyway. Shepard went back upstairs, ready to get Garrus out of here and back to the Normandy, where she could at least explain some things, if not everything.

"Ok, it's time to get out of here. Think we can make a break for it?" she asked.

"Only the Blue Suns left," said Garrus. "We might not make it through another assault. I say we go."

"Fair enough. EDI, stand by, we're extracting—" But Miranda's orders were cut off as the glass around them suddenly shattered, a gunship framed in the window, aiming directly at them.

"Archangel!" screamed the pilot, firing. "You think you can screw with the Blue Suns?"

The sudden barrage took them all off guard. The shots hit Garrus in the legs, bringing down his shields, making him grunt and cry out as he stumbled. Then Shepard saw the rocket.

"Garrus!"

Her heart seemed to crumble away as the rocket slammed into him, sending him flying across the room before slamming into the way and sinking to the floor, blue blood already beginning to gather. He was completely still.

Shepard had heard that fury burned its way through someone. The plays that she secretly loved often mentioned just such a thing. But now she thought that was wrong. Fury wasn't hot. It was cold. As Blue Suns propelled inside, opening fire on her team, she felt her body grow numb to its surroundings. Not that she was ignoring what was happening, but rather she was processing only the information that mattered.

The positions of her enemies.

The sparking coming from the gunship.

Her biotics.

What the Blue Suns would look like when she threw them out the window.

With a cry, she lit up, hurling one Blue Sun across the air, hearing her back crack as she hit the wall. Her next warp half-consumed her target. Miranda's warps were just as devastating, while Jacob's pull was very effective for bringing crouched enemies within range.

Another barrage of gunfire made them all duck as the ship made a sweep. Shepard turned her gaze on it and began to run. Leaping out the window seemed like the only logical thing.

She reached out and grabbed the side of one the guns, making the ship tilt. Gritting her teeth, she hauled herself up, grabbing onto the side of the ship and pulling out her pistol, recovered after the fight with Garm. Her first few shots shattered the window and she ducked as the pilot fired back. Her next shots weren't aimed at the pilot, but at his controls.

The sparks the gunship had been throwing off now grew brighter and more frequent until suddenly flames were shooting out of the console. Cursing, the pilot sought to regain control as the ship started to spin. Clutching it tightly, Shepard waited until it dipped lower to the ground and jumped again, rolling into cover as the ship suddenly exploded above her, ignoring the searing pain in her wounded left arm and the bleeding that had begun again. She did not even look back at the flaming wreckage behind her, running for the stairs and hoping.

The rest of the Blue Suns were down by the time she got there, Jacob and Miranda hovering over Garrus' prostrate form.

"Garrus!" Shepard ran to him, dropping beside him, panic suddenly leaking through the cold exterior. She opened her omnitool, scanning him frantically.

Suddenly he was gasping, one unwounded eye shooting open, wide with pain. "Garrus!" she cried, this time in gratitude. "It's okay, I'm here, just hold on. EDI, we need a med-evac, now!" she yelled into the comm. "Jacob, help me roll him over so I can get this bleeding stabilized."

Garrus was now gasping, his breathing wet and disjointed. Shepard held her lips tightly together as she saw the damage to his face and torso, some of his armor disintegrated on that side. Half his face seemed to be blood, and his mandible looked cracked on his right side, as if it had separated from his face. Shepard felt her stomach heave and fought it down.

"He looks bad," whispered Jacob. "Do you think he's…"

"EDI, I need that evac team now," she screamed, applying medigel, her heart pounding. "Garrus, just hold on, okay? I didn't come back from death just so you could leave now, do you understand me?"

All she got in return was a wet gurgle, his open blue eye not leaving hers.

"Help me get him on his side, he's choking on his own blood," she ordered, briskly turning him on his side with Jacob's help. She had not seemed to notice the tears pouring down her face, dropping to mix with the blue blood on his armor.

* * *

**This was a tough chapter to write. I hope you enjoyed my take on it! Thoughts, comments, suggestions and reviews are always welcome. Your reactions are such great feedback for me in figuring out what to do next. See you next week!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for your patience :) My schedule is not consistent, but I do continue to write! And thank you for all your thoughtful reviews. It is so great to hear what you think.**

**So here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

**Thanks to my lovely beta AnneRene. Please send her good thoughts; someone is dealing with a major sunburn!**

**All copyright belongs to Bioware; I'm just taking a spin through their universe.**

* * *

Chapter 9

Dr. Chakwas had shuttered closed the windows to her surgery. Shepard knew that because she had been pacing in front of them for the last hour. Her clothes were still stained with blood, both hers and Garrus'. A medic had field-dressed her arm for now, but Dr. Chakwas was—occupied. There was a smear of blood on her face: hers or his?

She didn't care.

She paused in her pacing, crossing her arms only to drop them with a wince. Instead she stared intently at the door, willing her improved hearing to somehow catch what was happening inside. But she heard nothing.

Kelly Chambers came up beside Shepard, her pixie-like face twisted with concern. "Are you all right, Commander? Has there been any news on Archangel's condition?"

"His name is Garrus Vakarian," she growled. "And if there had been any news, I wouldn't be pacing in front of the goddamned door, would I?"

She expected Chambers to squeak and scamper away. But the shoulders within that black and white uniform squared as Chambers turned to face Shepard.

"Commander. You've experienced a great deal of trauma in what seems to you a very short amount of time," said Chambers, her voice much firmer, balanced only by the kindness in her bright green eyes. "And your great…concern for your crew has been noted. It does you credit. However," and she moved closer, dropping her voice to a whisper, "having your current crew watch you pace while covered in blood is not confidence inducing."

At that, Shepard glanced around behind her. Three crew members hastily turned away, though the ship's cook (Gardner?) continued to stare, a sharp line of concern cutting down his forehead. Shepard took a breath and felt like she was coming out of a haze. She had allowed herself to get lost in that haze in order to do what needed to be done: carrying a bleeding Garrus down the stairs, having his heart stop briefly as they brought him aboard the Normandy, wiping away the tears on her face only to leave a trail of blood behind.

But he was in Dr. Chakwas' care now, one of the few people Shepard could trust right now. It was time for her to do what she did best: command.

She shook her head sharply and attempted a smile at Chambers. It came out more like a grimace but the yeoman seemed to appreciate the effort.

"You're right. I'll go—clean up."

As Shepard went to move past her, Chambers reached out a gentle hand.

"And Commander, if you ever want to talk, just let me know," she said softly. Then she left, allowing Shepard to retreat to her cabin in peace.

She found herself in the shower, her clothes still on, letting the water rinse the blood and gore off, watching as the dark blood mixed in the drain before disappearing.

* * *

The quiet knock on her door made her leap out, dropping the towel from her hair in her rush. Dr. Chakwas stood on the other side, still dressed in surgery scrubs, her eyes tired.

"How is he?" she blurted, dragging Chakwas inside.

"Still in surgery. The damage of his face and torso was extensive, but we've got the hemorrhaging under control. Now it's about reconnecting damaged tissues and ensuring he regains full functionality," explained Chakwas.

Shepard groaned and dropped into her chair, her head hanging in her hands.

"God, this is my fault. What have I dragged him into? My death…he was so different, Chakwas," said Shepard, looking up at her. "His eyes were dark, he looked so—not himself. And then I hurt him…" She glanced over at the console where EDI could appear, suddenly aware that she could be being monitored at that moment. Her voice died and she just shook her head, guilt roiling through her stomach.

"Shepard, I'm doing everything I can for him. And when he wakes up and is instantly insubordinate, you'll know everything is going to be fine." Chakwas placed a hand on her shoulder. "Garrus would want to be here. There's a reason I'm here, and Joker. Because being on your team gives us a greater purpose. And this old doctor is grateful for it."

Shepard waved her off, redness coloring her cheeks.

"I just hope he gives me a chance to explain," she said, rubbing her forehead.

"He will. But I will insist on some quiet time in the medbay for a while," said Chakwas, a touch of sternness in her voice. "In the meantime, let me finish with that arm and then you can go distract yourself." She placed a bag of supplies on Shepard's desk, chuckling slightly to herself. "And by distract yourself I mean try not to get into too much trouble."

Shepard held out her arm with a sigh of long suffering. Chakwas shook her head and set to work.

* * *

Before Shepard could, in good conscience, go find Dr. Mordin Solus in the slums of Omega, there was something she had to take care of first. Garrus' sharp words had gotten under her skin. The Shepard he knew had put those she loved first.

But had she contacted her own mother yet?

Shepard eyed the camera warily at her desk. It sat there, blinking at her, beckoning her to come and record a message. She sighed, pulling her hair back absentmindedly. Her mother, a captain now she understood, would never believe a typed message, no matter how encrypted. No, she needed to see Shepard. A recorded video message date and time stamped with other encrypted data hidden in it would convince her.

But first she had to record the damn thing.

Shaking out her shoulders, barely feeling the burn of her recently healed arm, Shepard sat down in front of the camera, angling it toward her. She grimaced to see herself in the screen of her console: her scars from Akuze gone, replaced by faint orange threading, marking where the cybernetics were still doing their work. That would be another project: reading the reports from Project Lazarus in more detail.

"Focus, Shepard," she whispered to herself, fixing her eyes on the camera.

"Mom. It's me. Really me, Marion. I know everyone told you I was dead…and they were right. Which makes all of this hard to explain. But I want to try, and you deserve to know that I'm all right. And you need to know where I am now and why. I hope you will understand.

"But first, know that I love you." Shepard swallowed. "And I'm so sorry for everything you've gone through. But I'm back. And I'm going after the Collectors. But we'll get to that." She sighed, massaging the back of her neck and smiling ruefully at the camera. "Fuck. This is going to be a long story."

* * *

The doctor's good advice had been just that: good advice. Shepard could do nothing for Garrus now. Her pacing and frantic worry were unhelpful; such behavior would only reinforce to Miranda and Jacob that there was something else between Shepard and her former squadmate. To protect Garrus, she had to distance herself.

And so they were back on the streets of Omega in the early evening, dodging the trash that filled this part of the city, heading for the hard-hit slums of Omega. A plague had swept that area of the city, and merc groups had placed the neighborhood in lockdown to prevent the plague from getting to other areas.

From what Shepard understood, the plague did not infect humans. She and her team would be able to safely make their way to Mordin Solus' clinic and hopefully convince him to join their team. Their plan to go after the Collectors and their Seeker swarms hinged on it.

A turian guard halted them briefly at the entrance to the slums. Some credits exchanged hands and he turned away, letting the heavily armed human group slip in behind him.

"Well, this is pleasant," Miranda drawled as the door closed behind them. The slums were dirty to begin with: now with the onset of the plague, they were downright filthy. Fires burned both trash and, in some cases bodies, leaving a heavy smell in the air that made Jacob cough, swallowing against the sudden reflex in his throat.

Two apartments nearby had been forced open, the insides trashed. Shepard saw a lifeless arm around one corner and shook her head.

"They shut down this district to protect the station, but they just left these people to die. Makes me respect this Mordin Solus more," she said, moving forward into the gloom.

"How far into this—neighborhood—do we have to go?" asked Miranda.

"Looks like it's a few blocks north of us. Keep an eye out for any movement."

As it was, there was little. They surprised two Blue Suns, ransacking an apartment. Shepard would have just chased them off, but the idiots turned and fired on them. There was no contest and Shepard's team continued on.

She almost didn't see him. The grime of his clothes blended into the filth of the neighborhood. But as she passed by, she heard the wheezing and she rounded, one hand already lighting with biotics.

The batarian slumped against the wall only glared at her through the crustiness edging his four eyes. He coughed, bringing up a yellowish slime. "Humans. Your kind brought this on us. Now you can't even wait until I am dead before you destroy my home." His rant brought on another string of coughing.

Miranda wrinkled her nose, already looking away to move on. But Shepard paused, kneeling down beside the man. "We didn't start this plague and we're not here to steal," she said slowly. "We're here to help. Where's Dr. Mordin Solus?"

He brushed her aside weakly, trying to sit up and only sinking further down, his breath now bubbling in his chest. "Liars! Thieves!" he exclaimed, struggling to breathe.

Shepard shook her head and brought up her omnitool, activating her medigel. "Just hold on a second, let us help," she said, trying to sound soothing.

He gasped, trying to avoid her. She wondered if he was hallucinating or if he truly did not trust her.

"Shepard, we need to go. He's dying," said Miranda with just a touch of impatience.

Shepard ignored her for the moment, applying the medigel to the batarian victim, letting it sink into his skin. After a few moments his breathing evened out and he stared at her in shock. Shepard nodded and then stood, turning stone hard eyes on Miranda.

"Our mission cannot blind us to everyday misery and suffering," she whispered harshly. "Otherwise, what's the point? If we only focus on the big picture, we lose sight of the small details that make it up. Every life is important. Every life is worth saving. Not just humans."

Miranda's mouth hung slightly open and Jacob just stared, taken aback by the passion in her voice.

"Oh, and when we get back to the ship," Shepard continued, her voice suddenly warmer, "you will forward my video message to my mother." It was an order, not a question. Miranda nodded slowly, a grudging respect in her eyes. Shepard patted the batarian man on the shoulder, whispering a few words of comfort and continuing deeper into the slums.

She wished Garrus could be here. And was so grateful he was not. The thought of hearing that cough rip through his chest made her shudder. Then she remembered where he was and what he was going through. Her jaw tightened and she picked up her pace.

* * *

They had almost reached the clinic when they met the next group of scavengers.

"Vorcha," Shepard spat, ducking into a ransacked apartment. Apparently the plague had not affected them much, if at all. If you hit one, the others swarmed, giving that one time to recover. It was like fighting the mythical hydra, except the vorcha were much more disgusting. Shepard had been making a sincere effort since she had met Garrus and Tali and Wrex and Liara; she saw all aliens as persons worth protecting. But the vorcha were not high up on the evolutionary ladder and Shepard had yet to meet a vorcha with a single redeeming quality.

And right now, they were just delaying her from reaching the Professor and preventing her return to the Normandy.

A few krogan supported the vorcha, drawn to the easy loot and the promise of a good fight. Jacob's sudden pull made them stumble as they were dragged within range. A well-aimed warp from Miranda made some of the fire throwers' cannisters explode. Shepard held back her biotics, concentrating on laying down a constant and heavy fire so the vorcha could not use their impressive regenerative abilities.

It took several minutes but finally the last one fell with a snarl. Shepard stood from her crouch in disgust. "You'd think Aria would have this under better control," she said. "Letting these vorcha just swarm through this district?"

"It keeps them from bothering territory she's more concerned with. This area's plague ridden. She's already written them off," responded Jacob.

"And now we're going to pull the Professor from this area, the one person who actually gives a damn? It doesn't feel right," said Shepard with a frown.

"Without him, it will be very difficult to manufacture an aid against the Seeker swarms," said Miranda, a slight hesitance in her voice. "Cerberus could do it, but it would take time. The Professor has an understanding of Collector technology that would take months for teams of our scientists to replicate. If we want a defense against the Collectors, we need him."

"I know," said Shepard with a sigh. "I just wish it wasn't going to cost these people their lives."

* * *

They were forced to leave their weapons at the entrance to the clinic. Mechs watched them suspiciously as did the turian guard. The people were very protective of their good doctor. Shepard passed a bribe along with her information about the sick batarian they had found. Two volunteers left to retrieve him, masks around their faces.

"The Professor has created a cure for the plague," explained the turian as he took them to the back labs. Shepard could hear a constant mumbling ahead, like someone talking to himself. "Anyone who can make it to the clinic can be treated and cured. The Blue Suns and the vorcha aren't too happy about it. They want this place to stay in chaos." The turian bristled, looking like he wished to spit on the ground. The knowledge that this was a hospital held him back.

Shepard tried to avoid looking at him. The light blue markings on his face reminded her too much of…

She focused on the salarian man they were approaching. He was bent over a lab table, examining samples. His orange skin faded to white around his eyes and mouth, like a dog going grey with age. One of the hooked crests had been amputated at some point, leaving a rounded stump instead of the usual pointed end. His lab coat was pristine; his whole being spoke of meticulousness.

His speech pattern unfortunately did not inspire as much confidence at first. Dr. Mordin Solus talked to himself as he worked at a rapid pace, his large dark eyes flickering back and forth between his sample and his omnitool. Shepard stopped and watched, one eyebrow lifted in amusement.

"Mutation? No, no, not natural, too many variables to adapt at this rate of success. Engineered? Likely, but by who? Vorcha—impossible. Not intelligent enough. Plague affects turians, salarians, asari, batarians, unlikely culprits. Leaves humans." Suddenly he looked up and Shepard had to steel herself to not step back. She suddenly remembered Aria's warning: this man was dangerous. There was more than one reason why Shepard wanted him on her team.

"Humans here now. Well-armed but not hostile. Mercenaries? No, too professional. Alliance? Unlikely, outside Alliance space. But something—something is familiar." Mordin moved up to her quickly, taking her in. She stood still as his omnitool swept over her, his eyes flickering over the readings.

"You don't need to keep guessing, Professor," said Shepard, smiling now. "As I'm sure your omnitool will tell you, I'm Commander Shepard and these are my—colleagues—Miranda Lawson and Jacob Taylor. I'm assisting them with a critical mission and we're hoping you can help."

"Commander Shepard? Declared dead, but readings say otherwise. Signs of cybernetic scarring. Clone? No, unlikely, cybernetics needed for repair. Revived then?" He took a deep breath, his eyes glinting. "Fascinating. Would take nearly unlimited resources. Not Alliance, declared you dead. Which means Cerberus."

"Yes. The Illusive Man has asked for you personally," said Miranda. "We have a proposition for you."

"Cerberus does not have the best reputation, but what Miranda is trying to say is that we need your help. The Collectors are kidnapping human colonies. We're going to stop them," declared Shepard.

"Collectors? Rarely seen, technologically advanced. Could be…" Mordin suddenly rushed back to his samples and then grinned after looking through his scope. "Yes! Collectors capable of manufacturing plague. Specifically tailored. Motivations unknown but certainly possible. Need more data. Going after Collectors, you say?" He looked up, a soon to be familiar look of scientific discovery in his eyes.

"Yes. I'm not exactly a scientist," she said ruefully. "Sheer force is not going to be enough to take them down. We were hoping to have you join us on board my ship, but you have quite the operation going here. Perhaps we could come to an arrangement?"

"Bargaining, not demanding? Not consistent with Cerberus tactics," the Professor commented, his dark eyes enigmatic.

"I'm not Cerberus," said Shepard. "But we have a common purpose. To stop the Collectors. That doesn't mean I want to leave hundreds of people to die here while we do that."

Mordin eyed her speculatively. "Cerberus anthropocentric. Why are you concerned with this?"

"We…do things a little differently," said Shepard.

Miranda scoffed, though she smiled. "I'm coming to see that's a major understatement."

* * *

Nate hurried through the grass clutching his schoolbooks to him. A few friends called out hello and he grinned and waved as he ran in between the prefabs to home. The sun was already fading, the small settlement entering early fall.

He came through the door, all gangly knees and messed up black hair. "Hey, Dad!" he called, grabbing some fruit from the counter.

Cleon turned around from the sink with a grin on his face. "Hey there. How was class?"

Nate shrugged, uncaring as only a thirteen year old boy could be. "Fine. Everyone was talking about Freedom's Progress. What happened?"

Cleon pretended to wash his hands, jaw tight. "Nothing. Colony failed and everyone left. It happens unfortunately."

Nate frowned at the apple in his hand. He had come to love their colony. It was home, as much as he could have a home without his mom. He took another bite, blue grey eyes deep in thought.

"The teachers seemed nervous at school. And Luke said that his dad said some Alliance soldiers were coming to visit. Are they coming to train us?" His eyes lit up. Though Commander Shepard was still a sore subject, Nate was attached to his dream of becoming an Alliance soldier. It was one Cleon was doing his best to subtly discourage.

"They're coming to help build up the colony, give us some upgrades," Cleon fibbed. "They're not recruiting, and you're still too young."

Nate frowned, finishing the last bite of his fruit with a slurp, tossing the core into the trash compactor. There was silence for a few moments.

"Hey, dad," Nate finally ventured. "I know my Mom was my mom but she was really your sister. So, who was my real mom?"

Now Cleon turned around, brushing off his hands with a towel, his expression serious.

"What makes you ask?" he questioned.

"I don't know. We were talking about heritage during social studies today and I was just wondering I guess." The nonchalance in his voice was not convincing. This was a subject that had started to come up more and more recently. It was natural that Nate was curious to know who his birth mother was. Whether he was ready for that knowledge was another matter entirely.

Cleon came over to sit down across the counter from him, leaning in on his elbows to better catch his son's eye. "You know I promised never to lie to you again, right?"

"Right," said Nate, looking up with something like hope in his eyes.

"But I also said that there are some things you can't know yet. That you're not ready for, or that I'm not ready to talk about." The look Nate gave him now was a little more grudging. "I need you to trust me that this is one of those things, okay?"

"Are you ever going to tell me?" Nate asked in quiet frustration. It made Cleon swallow tightly to watch how he reined in his anger, with that darkening expression in his eyes. Like Marion.

"Yes. I promise that someday I will tell you. When I'm ready."

"Did you love her?" Nate asked abruptly.

Cleon blinked then nodded slowly. "Yes. I did, a long time ago."

Nate tilted his head. "Why did she leave me? Did she die?"

There was another moment of silence before Cleon nodded again. "Yes, son. She did die." It was a quiet dinner that night, man and boy lost in their own thoughts. Nate turned over this idea of two lost mothers; Cleon wrestled with the guilt that he had implied a story that wasn't true.

Marion Shepard was dead. But that was not the first time she had left her son behind.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Thoughts, questions, concerns are always welcome. See you in 10 days!**


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